Over Time
by lord-harker
Summary: An innocent investigation leaves Merlin in great danger and only Arthur has the chance to save him. But to do so he must face the most difficult decision of his life. When it's life or death for them both, how can there be a right choice?
1. Condemnation

**Disclaimer:** As shiny as it would be if the show were mine, it's not so obviously I don't get any profit or anything. But I sure as hell enjoy it ;P

**A/N:** I've been hanging around the Merlin fandom for a while now and this story has been bandying around in my head for a while. This is actually attempt number three and I think it might now be fit for general release. Hopefully you will enjoy it but please remember this is my first Merlin outing in fanfic so any criticisms would be best off being constructive. I read and take on board all reviews left for me. So yeah, let me know how I've done. l-h

**Additional A/N:** Just thought, in terms of situation this isn't set with any point in time set in mind but most probably between first and second season or sometime during second season with no real spoilers involved.

**Over Time**

**Chapter One: Condemnation**

"You stand before the court," Uther's voice carried authority that echoed about the room, commanding the attention of everyone stood before him. He spoke with great thought and deliberation as was expected of someone of such power, "accused of the practise of sorcery." Each person who stood within the room had seen this happen countless times before and knew that the answer to the following question would hold no bearing against the final decision of punishment. "How do you plead?"

"I was trying to do right by my father." The woman who knelt before him stared only at the ground, unwilling to look at the King before her as she heard what was effectively her death sentence. "What you think of me doesn't matter."

"Your use of magic is what killed your father."

"If not magic then he would've died of old age."

Her shout caused the King to pause, just for a brief moment, before continuing. "Your enchantment did not cure your father because that was not it's true intent. Your plan was to attack the men whom I sent to investigate the accusations against you."

"No!"

"Even now, one of them is missing."

"I was trying to save him!"

"Magic is _not welcome_ in my kingdom!" the cry silenced the woman and echoed around the court bouncing harshly off the walls. The sound had completely died out before the King spoke again. "I find you guilty of the crime of sorcery and according the laws of Camelot, there is but one punishment for such a crime. Tomorrow you shall be put to death." Still the woman continued to stare at the ground. "Take her away."

Two guards stepped forward, helping the woman to her feet before escorting her out of the court. She walked of her own accord, untouched by her escort as she did not struggle against them. Arthur Pendragon had seen this before; not often but it was unmistakable; the resignation of someone who had nothing left to lose. This woman had lost her father, with no husband or children of her own, she'd lost everything once he'd drawn his last breath. Meeting her own death would reunite them again; why would she want to fight that?

The prince wanted to believe that she _had _been trying to help her father with magic but did not feel compelled to rush to her rescue. It was highly unlikely that was the case either way. If her intentions had been as noble as she proclaimed then something had gone horribly wrong. The old man had died and something within the room had exploded knocking everyone off their feet. Arthur was a part of the five man investigation team, Merlin was obviously one of the others, while the other three were guards assigned to assist should there be any trouble.

The aim had not been to attack or frighten but to investigate the accusations against the woman and find if they were true. If that was the case the guards were to bring her in for trial, nothing malicious or violent, yet when they entered she had struck everyone down including her own father.

Those in the room were unconscious for but a few minutes yet when they awoke the woman was there, mourning over her deceased parent's body and Merlin was gone. Nowhere to be found.

It was this that the young prince held against this woman. For as much as he wanted to believe her, Merlin's continued disappearance put sword to any pity he felt for her.

Once she was gone, his father called an end to proceedings and strode towards the doorway. His long strides stopped as he came to Arthur who was stood, solemnly, with his arms crossed.

For just a moment, Arthur saw what he wished he could believe to be sorrow as his father's eyes met his. Slowly, the king raised his arm, placing his hand on the prince's shoulder before speaking directly at him.

"It's over. He's gone." Arthur's stance remained unchanged as his father continued to try and decipher his gaze before giving up and patting him on the shoulder. "I'm sorry." And with that the king left.

Within minutes the entire court had followed suit and the crown prince of Camelot was stood alone within the grand hall.

The silence within the room was deafening and Arthur couldn't help but wonder what Merlin would say if he were there now; probably something in defence of the woman. Maybe that was why the prince wanted to believe her; he was compensating for the absence of his outspoken friend. Still he could argue over the wheres and the whyfores until the sun set and be no closer to figuring out what had happened today.

It was true that his father had accepted that Merlin was beyond their help but that was only because the boy was a servant. Had it been one of the guards or, heaven forbid, the prince himself, Uther would be mounting a rescue within minutes. Fortunately Arthur wasn't as single-minded as his father. At least not lately. Servant or not, Merlin was a man; he was a subject of Camelot and therefore deserved as much protection as anyone else. What's more he was the crown prince's personal manservant; Arthur's personal responsibility.

_No, father. _He thought._ This isn't over at all._

* * *

><p>The click of the Prince's boots on the cold, uninviting stone floor was sharp as he approached, echoing emptily around the dungeon.<p>

The cell where the woman was being held had a distinct feel of despair that was only aided by the smell of dank, damp stonework. She was uninterested in the nature of her visitor, even as she heard him come to a stop outside her cell; he, like his father was nothing but a fool.

Silence stretched out between them, clammy and heavy within the air. She felt his eyes boring into the side of her head but refused to look at him; he of tainted blood.

"I am sorry for your loss." His voice was solemn, heavy, weighed down with mourning.

"No you're not." She was no fool; mourning he may be but not for her father. "I know you believe I deserve this."

The prince did not sound surprised when he spoke again. "Why?"

"You believe I killed your manservant." Again, silence fell and she noted how he did not leap to deny her accusation.

"Where did you learn that spell?"

"I bought it." Glancing upwards, she recalled the moment she had taken the paper in her hand and felt that she finally had hope for her father's deteriorating health. "From a travelling practitioner of magic."

A few moments of silence were broken when the Prince spoke again. His voice was quiet but sharp and menacing. "Untrustworthy."

"I was trying to save my father. The spell could never kill." At last, she turned to look him in the eyes. "If he _is_ dead, it's not by my hand."

Piercing, haunted green eyes glared back at her, cutting through the darkness like a sword. "Why should I believe you?"

"I am to die tomorrow." Once again she turned her gaze to the small patch of floor before her. "What have I to gain by lying?"

* * *

><p>The moon hung high in the night sky shining down over the kingdom of Camelot as well as the nearby forest.<p>

It shone, glittering through the treetops before landing on the short raven hair and pale white skin of Merlin, huddled up at the base of a large oak tree. His arms were pulled tightly around his legs, hugging them tightly to his chest to protect himself against the brisk wind that was whipping up leaves around him.

Something was wrong; and of course it was Arthur's fault.

There was no reason for him to have gone to the woman's house this morning but the crown prat had insisted Merlin accompany him.

When the manservant had questioned him, Arthur had used the good old excuse that he was the prince and Merlin wasn't meaning if Arthur said do something, Merlin shut up and did it. Naturally that meant he had gone along, as told.

From the moment they'd entered the house he could feel the power within there; it coursed and sparked through the air almost like electricity, he'd never felt anything like it. Whatever power was within those walls was far stronger than anything he'd ever come into contact with before.

It was strength enough to make him pause at the doorway, which of course greatly displeased the royal clotpole. His highness was unsurprisingly oblivious to the true nature of the danger he was in and strode into that house. One day that pigheadedness was going to get him killed, or severely maimed at the very least.

Still, Merlin could dream.

At the last minute, he felt the power swell impossibly in only a few seconds and immediately dashed forward, grabbing hold of his master's shoulder and threw him back towards the guards.

As Arthur's angry shout ended Merlin heard the door behind him splinter while he was knocked forward by the power as it dispelled itself…hitting him full on in the back.

He'd awoken, splayed out on his back, somewhere in the forest and had since been wandering around trying to get out.

Something in the back of Merlin's mind told him that even if it took the better part of a century Arthur would find some way to pin this all on him. But there was much more to this whole problem.

Something was wrong. He could feel it.

The usual warming presence of his own magic that usually he could feel within himself had grown, risen until it was almost bubbling up to a boil under his skin. It was why he'd stopped moving; he couldn't ignore it any longer.

The force that had knocked him out earlier had been that of a spell, and a powerful one at that, but it was like nothing he'd come across before. Gaius would know what was going on, he would understand; that was where he needed to go.

Besides, he could feel bile rising in his throat and his head throbbing as his powers swelled for the third time in as many hours.

Squeezing his eyes tight he prayed as silently as he could that the discomfort would pass soon enough but he did not truly hold out much hope for his prayer being answered. Sure enough, after a few minutes he felt his chest tighten and bile rose once again in his throat.

He squeezed his eyes even tighter and tried to think of anything to distract his mind but there was little for him to really think of other than his current situation.

A few tears traced a small path down his cheek as his eyes watered against the strain they were under.

The wind was picking up now, slowly growing in strength but he barely noticed it; his skin beginning to tingle uncomfortably as his magic swelled again. Suppressing the urge to cry out he shouted as loudly as he could in his head. It wasn't any words in particular just a great cry, basically what he was trying not to vocalise. Loud and strong within his own head, he worried over whether there was a chance that Kilgharrah might hear him.

Besides the confusion, the worry and the fear he knew that there was something really wrong with him.

He could feel it.


	2. Mercy

**Disclaimer:** Not mine, simple as. would be more entertaining but it is currently too bleeding early o clock.

**A/N:** Reviews were few it's true but subscriptions were more therefore I assure you there shall be more. And lo behold, as was "foretold" there's the next part (it's after the formerly underlined bold) (apologies for rhyming see timing in disclaimer for explanation)

**Chapter Two: Mercy**

Sunlight, bright and piercing, forced its way into Merlin's consciousness, bringing the sounds of the forest swiftly into his awareness.

Groaning, he reached up to his forehead, vainly hoping it'd smooth out the throbbing that was pulsating somewhere in the back of his head. Obviously it didn't do anything but his fingers froze as he ran them through his hair.

It…it couldn't be possible, but his hair stopped sooner than usual…

His fingers traced through the seemingly-shorter locks three more times as he reassured himself that he had to be wrong. Probably delirious from lack of food.

There was no reason for his hair to be shorter save for someone with scissors taking a fancy to his hair as they passed by…which of course was ridiculous. Still, he resisted the urge to check his hair again as he pushed himself into a shaky sitting position, reaching around his knees with his arms.

Gently, he closed his eyes, reaching within himself wary of what he'd felt last night. The roaring discomfort had calmed at some point over the night, probably while he'd been asleep, settling down to a hum that was buzzing in his very bones.

His power was restless; trying to tell him something. It was better than last night, lighter, less distracting, but that wasn't enough to rest his mind at ease; something still didn't feel right and there was a niggling feeling that sat, around about where his headache was, saying it was something to do with the sudden shortness of his hair.

Carefully he shook his head, mindful of the throbbing that still sat in his head, hoping to shake loose some of the worry growing in his chest.

Opening his eyes again, Merlin looked at the still silence of the woods around him.

Great. He was still lost.

Last night's gale force wind was gone, leaving little more than a gentle summer breeze that brushed past him, catching and tugging at his clothes. Looking down at his sleeves he caught sight of how loosely they hung around his, surprisingly thin wrists.

It took a few minutes of him staring at the excess fabric before he moved his arms away from his knees. Slowly, carefully, he lowered his hands to the floor and watched with increasing worry as they slipped past his wrist, over his knuckles, quickly raising them again before they had the chance to swamp past the tips of his fingers.

Carefully he stood up, keeping his hands where they would be out of the sleeves. He felt his heart-rate begin to increase as he noticed that not just his shirt but also his trousers and even his shoes were too big for him.

What on earth…?

Something was wrong; terribly wrong but Merlin didn't understand.

Was it his magic that had done whatever had happened or had it been that spell he'd blocked at the house? And what exactly _had_ happened?

Gaius would know, or at least he'd know where to look in order to find out.

But the physician was in his quarters in Camelot and in short, Merlin wasn't. The boy didn't even know where he _was_, let alone which direction he needed to go. His instinct was to perform some sort of compass-like spell, if only to help him find his way. Yet his skin was beginning to crackle unpleasantly again and he wasn't entirely sure he'd be able to trust what the spell would tell him.

Still, standing where he was doing nothing would be less-productive.

Merlin took a few glances around, to make sure there was no one around before holding his right hand out in front of him, ignoring the slight shake in it. Staring intently, waiting, watching for the sign he spoke the words and heard the magic that laced them.

"_Ostendo mihi via impetro domus."_

Wincing, he felt his power swell and surge as a small arrow appeared in his hand that pointed off to Merlin's right between two sickly looking trees. Instantly, he stopped the spell, and worryingly the magic within him did not die down with it. He tried not to dwell on it, turning instead towards the West as he lowered his hand, just as the spell had indicated.

That could be completely the wrong way. It could lead him deeper into the forest, further away from food, home and answers. Going that direction he could die… But truthfully it was as good a guess as any and there was as much a chance, if not more so, that it _was _the way back to Camelot.

Taking a slow, deep breath, he said a small prayer and started towards the way the spell had indicated.

Here goes everything.

* * *

><p>Arthur awoke to find his breakfast already laid out on the table, his clothes on a chair by the empty fireplace and his armour set out as it was ought to be. As it was ought to be every morning, in fact, but rarely was even after he was awake.<p>

As he dressed, the silence that surrounded him was unnatural. Usually he would be talking to Merlin, discussing the planned activities of the day or complaining about whatever job it was that the manservant was supposed to have completed and for some reason or another hadn't.

It was a stark and unnecessary reminder that there was something wrong within his walls.

Indeed it was _his _walls in which the problem lay. His father had already dismissed the incident as complete. After all, Merlin was only a serving boy, who would notice his absence beside the physician and the Prince? Already life had moved on; the food on the table was evidence enough of that.

Others, servants who knew how to keep a civil tongue, would fulfill Merlin's normal duties and that was enough for the King. Servants were for serving and nothing more; Heaven forbid they should have an opinion and think for themselves; or indeed that Arthur should listen.

Walking up behind his chair, he shifted the food about the plate and struggled to bring himself to eat it. It wasn't that he wasn't hungry or that he worried about the food, but rather it was the thought that this meal was the only thing that was keeping him from watching the woman in his father's dungeons burn.

Arthur had half a mind to argue the matter with his father, if only to postpone the death sentence by another day so he might question her again, but he would have better luck arguing with his horse.

The woman had broken the fundamental law of Camelot by committing acts of sorcery.

Even if she were to survive, there was nothing that could save her in the eyes of the kingdom.

* * *

><p>Merlin had been walking for half an hour and was desperately trying to ignore the once-again growing discomfort that was gathering in his chest. His headache had worsened and he'd fallen over several times. Sometimes it was a stray branch, sometimes it was uneven or broken ground and sometimes it was just because the distance from the floor caught him by surprise a couple of times.<p>

You know, he would have sworn that it wasn't that close before. Just another thing to add to the list of things that were wrong.

"You're a little young to be in the woods on your own, aren't you?"

Merlin froze, the hairs on the back of his head standing on end and his magic swelled within him again.

"Let me get a good look at you."

Every single instinct within him screamed at him to run, shout, anything but turn around, but common sense told him to do as he told. And so it was that he turned to find a tall, burly man towering over him around six feet away. He had no proper form of armour, his clothes combined mainly of leather. Thrown across his right shoulder a large-ish travel bag but most prominent was the large, weighty sword, the hilt of which rested in his right hand. The sun glinted, menacingly off the edge of the blade as he twisted it around within his hand.

There was a horribly chilling smile accompanying the nasty glint within his eye and Merlin instinctively took a few steps back. The stranger lowered his head before tutting.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Merlin considered his options. Stay, probably die; run, probably die; do nothing, possibly live but never get back to Camelot.

And in that moment he decided.

Turning back around he bolted tripping over, twigs, more uneven ground and even his over-sized boots in an attempt to run away. Every single beat of his heart was thumping heavily in his ears and he felt his discomfort, worry and power gently swell with every footstep he left behind him.

He didn't turn, nor did he strain to hear if he was being followed. And so it was that he didn't know the stranger was after him until he had been tackled to the ground.

There were a few moments as Merlin struggled under the man which stopped once he felt the knee in the centre of his back. There was a dark, throaty laugh.

"You really shouldn't have done that."

With his mouth filled with dirt, Merlin struggled to move up for air and prayed the crazed lunatic didn't push down any further on his back as he was already struggling to breathe.

"Now whatever you do, don't scream."

Merlin struggled not to whimper as he felt the sharp pressure of the knife as it pushed gently against the soft skin of his throat.

* * *

><p>The flames jumped, licking fiercely at the sky while the dark, billowing smoke stretched ever upwards before joining with the few small clouds that swam in the bright azure-blue sky.<p>

Arthur stood as always at his father's left side looking down at the remains of the woman with nothing left to lose.

As was often the case in convictions such as these, she had had no last words for the world; going to the grave with a silence that no one dared to break.

There wasn't anything that anyone within that courtyard could do, or indeed would risk doing, in order to keep her feet out of the flames. Merlin, were he there, would of course make sure Arthur was aware that he believed that everyone, anyone deserved to live, whatever it was that they had done. Arthur found that it was far more difficult to listen to that voice when its true owner wasn't present.

Each flame leapt higher, slowly consuming what little remained of the pyre and with a small moment of consideration, the prince bowed his head and heard his father cough disapprovingly behind him.

No sorcerer; no matter their intent or plan was worth praying for, even if they had nothing, even if they were a good person; this was his father's belief. Yet he did not raise his head as he was not praying for the already condemned soul of the woman before them; no his prayer was for Merlin, wherever the fool may be.

As the final cracks of fire pierced the air and the first few witnesses began to leave the courtyard Arthur looked up again, his eyes scanning the crowd before settling upon Guinevere stood, as usual, at Morgana's side.

He caught Gwen's eye momentarily, hoping that she would understand what he was doing. After a short while she smiled slightly before gently closing her eyes and lowering her own head. Slowly Morgana, having noticed this small exchange, reached out with a hand, placing it on her maid's shoulder and instead, raised her chin up as she closed her eyes allowing the wind to catch her hair while she prayed.

The royal prince turned back to the remains of the blaze and lowered his head again.

Arthur's prayer was short but lasted for several long minutes repeating certain points over and over again, hoping that it may reach straight through to the heavens and be heard above the many others within the world who were most likely asking for help.

Together the maid, the King's ward and the Crown Prince all prayed for their friend.

Each of them were asking in different ways, with different words with differing levels of worry but in the end, they were, all of them, asking for the exact same thing.

_Please, let him be safe._


	3. Confusion and Fear

**Disclaimer: **The attacker and basic plot is mine but characters and tv show aren't. Please watch Merlin! (obligatory plug fulfilled)

**A/N: **So I haven't updated this story in months but it appears to be really quite popular and of course the new series began on Saturday and I was inspired to return to what I had here and complete it before the next episode. Amazingly it took a few sleepless nights but at long last it's finished to a degree that I can be quite confident is satisfactory. And what a day to finish on (my birthday) and be prepared for one hell of a chapter ending but i promise you it's all leading somewhere, hopefully i shall be able to update sooner than this last time. And I think I might be evil enough to say, Enjoy! ¦)

**Chapter Three: Confusion and Fear**

The hustle and bustle out on the streets of Camelot had continued regardless of the events witnessed by the court that morning. It was one of Uther's intentions that the consequences of magic are known to all but _never_ at the sacrifice of the prosperity of the Kingdom.

Arthur strode with a vague sense of uncertainty through the crowd, the smell of burning still strong within his nostrils. Everyone he passed turned to look at him; some were smiling, others seemed slightly saddened, one little child even pointed after him; but all of them had a small glint in their gaze, almost as though they'd never seen him properly before. He tried to dismiss it but it was difficult; normally he would be distracted by whomsoever was with him when he patrolled the inner city, or set out on his quests.

Often it was Merlin, the manservant who was almost always on his left flank, never more than a few steps away, no matter what the danger. With neither weapon, nor the skills to wield them, yet always close at hand. True, he was a bumbling idiot, but a loyal, faithful and trustworthy idiot nonetheless. And before Merlin joined the throng of Camelot's court, Arthur, still a young deluded fool of a prince with a cold chink of arrogance lodged quite dangerously in his personality, never went anywhere without a small entourage of armed guards under his father's orders to protect the boy from all harm.

Guards would be clamouring about him now were it not for the fact that he'd not told Uther that he had left the court, let alone where it was he was going. Hell, he didn't even know himself but he couldn't stay under the King's annoying judgemental ever-watching eyes. But there was no denying that the wrath would fly once Arthur returned.

You see, Uther expected Arthur to mourn for but a moment and then pick up and move on, but the prince was not like his father. Merlin was _not_ dead and until Arthur saw a body with his own eyes, he refused to believe otherwise.

And so it was that the Crown Prince Arthur walked among the streets, unaccompanied, alone and annoyingly hyper-aware.

Merlin _was _out there; and Arthur _was_ going to find him.

* * *

><p>Merlin's heart was pounding in his ears as he struggled to hold his neck off the sword and his mouth out the dirt. He'd never been a man of strength but the man pinning him down clearly was.<p>

For a few minutes they were there, complete silence except for Merlin's laboured breathing, it seemed running and panic did little to soothe the lungs. The attacker though barely made a sound and the only assurance he was even there was the weapon and the pressure holding the boy down.

There was a quick breeze that went past, dancing along the ground and picking up leaves, carrying them along and as he breeze passed over the back of Merlin's neck the hairs there prickled as he felt movement above him.

"Now…" the stranger's voice was cool and calm, full of assurance that he was in control. "In a moment, I am going to let you go." Merlin's continuingly thudding heart was starting to make his head throb painfully. Before his eyes was just darkness which most likely meant that his eyes were shut tight. He tried to convince himself that it wasn't from sheer terror but thus far wasn't succeeding.

"Feel free to run." The pressure on his back increased and the blade still at his throat dug in slightly. He choked back a sob. "But _when_ I catch you." The blade rose up into his neck again and Merlin, whimpered involuntarily, convinced as he was that there was only one slice between him seeing daylight again and being the wrong end of murdered.

A low, throaty chortle came from behind him but gradually the blade and the pressure pulled away and the adrenaline previously pumping through his veins was rapidly leaving and Merlin had to struggle against his basic instinct of sinking into the ground and sleeping. But as the rush melted away, his magic surged and the previous discomfort it caused quickly settled back into his stomach. Lord he wished that had stayed away, he would have given anything.

"Get up." Remaining on the floor, Merlin was terrified to move, unsure what on Earth he was supposed to do, what there was he _could _do. Fortunately, or rather, unfortunately the decision was made for him when the stranger's boot slid under his side and pulled up forcing him over and onto his back.

From this new and nothing short of foreboding angle, the stranger now towered above him. And it could have been coincidence but the light that passed through the trees caught on the blade giving it a menacing glint, like the grin of a beast moments before it swallows you up.

A literal jolt of fear passed through Merlin and he winced as the discomfort spiked in response. His magic, preparing to protect him, but he had no idea if he could get even half a word out let alone a whole incantation. He didn't even know what was going on, where he was, what was going on. All the questions swirled in his head colliding with the fear and the uncertainty and the surging power within him and his head swam.

There was one option, not ideal and if Gaius ever found out he would no doubt murder him but Merlin was sure the physician would appreciate his being alive to be killed for intentionally revealing his magic.

And there really was no other option that he could think of.

"Get. Up."

Never had those two words sounded so…

Gaius said the same thing to him most days, 'Get up, Merlin!' Gentle with maybe a touch of idle threat posed by making Arthur annoyed by turning up five or so minutes late. One look in this man's fiery eyes and it was more than obvious that he was threatening a whole lot worse than rat soup or a day in the stocks. The man was looking at him, with one eyebrow raised, daring Merlin to defy him.

Spreading his hands beside him, Merlin cautiously pushed back, forcing himself to his feet, not once taking his eyes from the over-confident face of his attacker.

As he moved, the sword glinted again in the sunlight, highlighting the true tenderness of the situation and Merlin felt his magic swell again in defence and he paused. His abilities were anything but reliable right now, literally anything could happen; he could accidentally kill this guy if he tried anything.

The stranger smirked at Merlin's sudden stillness, taking a few steps backward before reaching down to the floor where he'd thrown his sack.

"Clever boy."

There was a scrape of metal on metal and a couple of clinks as he re-sheathed his sword so as to free his hand for reaching into the bag.

Merlin's power swelled again and he knew that this was going to be his one chance and if he didn't go for it he was going to be killed. There was no two ways about; hopefully he wouldn't kill the guy but if he did… Honestly that wasn't something he really didn't think he could bear to consider.

Throwing his hand out towards the man stood before him, the young warlock just short of shouted the only spell he felt he could handle.

"Arcendum!"

Pure force practically exploded out of his palm, sending the guy careening backwards twelve feet where he landed flat on his back while Merlin was thrown a similar distance in the opposite direction.

All the air was knocked from his lungs as he landed, smack, on the forest floor and there was only a small moment to regain his breath and simultaneously thank whoever it was had ensured no stray branches nor random trees had been in his way.

With as much speed as he could manage, Merlin jumped to his feet and started to put one foot in front of the other as quickly as he possibly could without tripping over his feet which was far easier said then done.

Sure enough, barely two seconds into running, a roar of anger bellowed from somewhere from the forest behind him. Birds in nearby treetops took to the air at the sound and Merlin stumbled but caught himself before he hit the ground.

His unsteady, panicked breathing filled his ears, and he couldn't help but feel that man was just steps behind him, yet he never dared to even think of turning back to see. All he focused on was putting as much distance between himself and that man as he could and keeping it.

Fear as his driving emotion and running on instinct more than anything Merlin was paying very little attention to where he was going. As such he was truly grateful that he hadn't run into anything yet. Or at least he was, until he actually smacked into something.

He felt hands on his arms and panicked, struggling against them as fiercely as he could. The stranger must have somehow overtaken him and he knew he wouldn't get away again if he just gave up now.

"Hey, easy." Merlin stopped. That wasn't the voice he was expecting, it couldn't be the stranger. It wasn't rough and throaty like before, it was calmer, quieter and more importantly it seemed worried. "What is it? What's wrong?"

Looking up, his heart all but stopped. Even filled with terror, fear and confusion there was no mistaking that nauseatingly familiar face.

"Arthur?"

Confusion flashed on his face and the prince blinked harshly. "Merlin?"

Probably the last person Merlin was expecting to see, especially out here in the forest but as a nearby shout came from the forest behind him he began to start panicking again. Throwing a glance back, he tried to push his way past Arthur but the prince, who seemingly hadn't heard the sound and had a firm grip on the boy's arms, wasn't letting go.

"Arthur, please! We have to-"

"Merlin, what happened to you?"

"Oi!"

Merlin froze and watched as Arthur's gaze turned from the boy to something behind him. The warlock had no reason to look; he knew who was there. Besides, the adrenaline from his escape was beginning to subside again and Merlin felt his magic start to well up within his stomach. Along with it grew this almost overwhelming sense of nausea and he was sure that if he opened his mouth, even a little, he would be violently sick.

Already he was regretting having used that spell.

* * *

><p>The house held no clues, not that Arthur expected it would.<p>

No one he'd asked knew where the manservant was. No one had seen him in the last two days and he knew that this was pointless. Of course no one had seen him, he had disappeared; it was generally what happened when people disappeared.

If only he had some idea what that spell's intention had been he could know where to look but no one alive would be willing or able to help him identify. Well that's not including Gaius; if anyone would help him it would be the physician but the Prince couldn't risk returning to Camelot, not yet. For one, Uther would be fuming; for another it would be tantamount to giving up and he couldn't do that. He just couldn't.

It was as he was telling himself this for the twelfth time that it just occurred to him.

The druids.

It was true they were people of magic and more than likely would refuse any help to Arthur due to his family and the laws of the kingdom of Camelot but even so…

If he could find them, ask for their help in finding Merlin or if nothing else identify the potion the woman was using. If there was any chance they could find the manservant… His father would no doubt kill him were he ever to find out but Arthur had but one thought in his mind.

Find Merlin.

And so it was that the Crown Prince of Camelot came to be in the forest. Lost, would be a more apt description but at the very least he knew the way back towards Camelot so he wasn't a lost cause.

Since he had entered the woods, Arthur had seen neither hide nor hair of neither man nor beast. It was quiet except for the seemingly endless rustle of leaves in the breeze.

Gazing round at the greenery Arthur felt at a loss. Several times he was tempted to call out but undue attention was not exactly what he was after. Slowly, and really rather annoyingly, he was starting to realise how bad this idea of his was turning out to be.

"Where are you, Merlin?"

The wind gradually slowed and the treetops stilled, but the silence of the woods didn't return. Somewhere from the trees Arthur could hear the sound of something moving. Arthur stilled and listened carefully, years of hunting guiding his instincts.

The uneven footfall, the speed, the panic; it wasn't an animal, it couldn't be, at least no animal that he knew to live in this part of the kingdom. Turning to the West, where the sound seemed to be coming from, he tried to see what, or indeed who, was approaching, his hand on the hilt of his sword, prepared to defend himself if necessary.

As he continued to listen, it seemed less and less likely that whoever was approaching would be dangerous. Attackers would try to be quieter, use the element of surprise to gain the advantage and these movements were far too erratic, too frightened, too fast. Almost as though they were running from something; and they were getting louder.

"Hello." his voice was steadfast, hoping to reassure whoever was there. Arthur took a slight step forward. "Who's there?"

Then he spotted them, just a short way off into the trees weaving in and out between the old, gnarled trunks; every other step they were tripping, seemingly over their own feet. Their gaze was fixed firmly forward, turned slightly towards the ground, probably trying, and failing, to keep an eye on their feet, make sure they didn't fall over completely.

"What?"

Arthur's cry went ignored and he shifted quickly across the forest floor to stand in their way.

Just as they drew level Arthur managed to step into their path and they slammed into him, clearly too afraid to even look where they were going. Arthur grasped at their arms, prepared for them to try and get away.

He didn't say a word but twisted and fought, scratched and hit trying desperately trying to get out of the Prince's grip. It was a young boy, probably not much older than thirteen years old, extremely panicked and struggling fiercely.

"Hey, easy!"

Almost instantly, the boy stopped; practically froze in place. Although grateful for the co-operation, Arthur couldn't help but worry slightly over the sudden change.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

He watched as the boy slowly turned up to look at him, his mouth half-open.

"Arthur?"

…

This was impossible.

It just… It _was not_ possible. Was it?

This boy was thirteen… he… what?

"Merlin?"

This was a boy, a young boy, a good deal younger than Merlin but the hair, the eyes, even the face structure… Merlin?

Arthur looked him over, taking in everything he could and he realised this boy who 'couldn't possibly be Merlin' was wearing the same clothes his manservant was wearing when he'd disappeared, although they seemed a bit big for him…which sort of made sense.

The boy tried to push against Arthur in another attempt to get free as he glanced into the forest behind him.

"Arthur, please! We have to-"

"Merlin, what happened to you?"

"Oi!"

Arthur felt Merlin freeze solidly in his grip again and looked up to see a leather-clad stranger brandishing a sword. Slowly realisation dawned on him; the panicked running, the fear, the freezing.

"Stay behind me."

Carefully and quickly Arthur moved Merlin away from this man and without even waiting for any indication that the boy had heard him, the prince stepped forward, purposely placing himself in the way should this stranger attempt to rush him. Placing his hand on the hilt of his sword, Arthur spoke directly to the stranger as clearly as possibly could.

"State your business."

The stranger merely scoffed, tilting his head to one side and looking the prince up and down. "And who, exactly, is asking?"

"I am Arthur Pendragon." The stranger's confidence seemed to disappear almost instantly at the name. "I say again, state your business."

The man took a few tentative steps back, not taking his eyes off of Arthur who stood there, unmoving, prepared to fight although by the look on the man's face it really wasn't necessary.

Taking a deep breath, the stranger looked over the Prince's shoulder. "I don't know what you did, but next time I see you, you're dead." His gaze came back to Arthur again. "Protective Prince or no."

The two men held each other's gaze for a short moment before the man turned and began to walk away. Arthur stood, waiting and watching until he was a fair way off. He didn't understand what that man had meant by what he'd said but it didn't sound good.

Once sure the stranger wasn't coming back, Arthur turned around and was surprised by how different his manservant looked now. It definitely was Merlin, clearly it was, just younger and right now clearly terrified.

"Merlin?" The young boy hadn't shifted at all from where Arthur had placed him, his gaze glued to the ground and didn't nor make any indication that he'd heard. The only sound was his heavy breathing, no doubt trying to catch his breath after the running. "What's happened to you?"

The boy slowly turned towards him, lifting his gaze from the floor yet still breathing heavy. "I…I don't know." Fear shot through Arthur as Merlin took in a slow, deep and horrifically shuddery breath. "I don't feel good."

Merlin started to take in another shuddery gulp of air and Arthur's own breath caught as he saw his friend's eyes roll back into his head and begin to fall towards the floor.

"Merlin?" Arthur caught him before he fell too far and gently lowered him to the ground. "No, no! Merlin!" He tried to shake him awake, tapping Merlin on the side of the face but there was still no movement or any signs of life. "Merlin, wake up!" Arthur was terrified by how limp and unresponsive Merlin was. It hadn't even been twenty seconds yet it was though he was sleeping the sleep of the dead. "Come on, Merlin! Please!

"MERLIN!"


	4. Against My Better Judgement

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the concept, characters, latin language or anything within this fic which is not mine to own.

**A/N:** I could've finished this a few hours ago but my friend was in town and I had to postpone the finishing of this chapter for a short while. Thankfully it's not hindered anything major, if anything it gave me a break to think some things through. I suppose I would've finished a few days back but I was unsatisfied and scrapped the second half completely rewriting it but here it is. Anyway, thanks everyone for the reviews and the alerts and faves, they are all very encouraging. Please review this chapter as well. lady-h

**Chapter Four: Against My Better Judgement**

"Merlin?"

The boy had his eyes shut tight; he was scared…more scared than he wanted to be…

Arthur was there, he was with someone he knew; that _man_ was leaving, he was going but still breathing wasn't getting any easier, his lungs continually catching as he attempted to take air in. Worse that that though, his magic wasn't settling like it had before. There was no threat; no reason he would need to be protected but Merlin could almost feel it crackling along his arms, skipping across the skin all over his body

There was a sharp pressure pushing against the back of Merlin's right eye as he slowly and carefully turned towards Arthur.

"I…I don't know,"

Merlin tried swallowing the cloying fear that was sticking like toffee within his chest, but his stomach lurched as another wave of nausea overwhelmed him. His lungs protested as he took in another breath and it caught several times before he lungs could get no larger.

"I don't feel good."

As he took in another desperate gulp of air he felt his magic surge and his breath caught again. Nausea, the power and most of all his unfounded fear meant he was distracted. Barely a chance to realise what was happening and not a hope of fighting as everything just sort of slipped away.

It sounded odd to think of it that way, but the truth of it was that it was the most accurate word he could think of which could accurately apply to what happened. That is there appeared to be no transition between his looking Arthur in the eye in one moment, and not seeing, hearing or even feeling anything the next. There was just…nothing.

His one consolation from this worryingly drastic change was that he no longer felt the surging and swelling of his own magic. Merlin took a small amount of satisfaction from this, but only a small amount.

* * *

><p>Out in the forest, Arthur had struggled not to panic at the horrific lack of response from the limp boy in his arms in those first few moments. There had been no resistance, no strength, no tension in his body at all. In fact, it was near to impossible to believe that Merlin had even been breathing at the time.<p>

The prince was practically cradling Merlin's unresponsive form within his arms and realised instantly knew that child or no, Merlin was…unconscious and in danger, as much as he wished it wasn't true.

Needless to say the first name he thought of was the same name that always came to mind whenever a sentence included 'Merlin' and 'potential imminent death'.

Gaius.

And so that's where Merlin was now, in Gaius' chambers being looked after by the physician while Arthur had spent the afternoon training. He'd explained what he could to the old man but didn't stay; for one thing, he didn't fancy having to explain to his father why he had continued to neglect his training and for another… he couldn't handle seeing Merlin the way he was.

It was wrong. It was unnatural.

…It was confusing.

So instead Arthur went out onto the field to train; used the practice as time to try to come to terms with what he knew and what he'd seen. Almost everyone he sparred with commented on how he seemed distracted but he just shrugged their concerns away challenging them to another round.

Unfortunately, Arthur's father had noticed his absence but the prince had luckily got the young Merlin back to Camelot before Uther's mind could truly come up with some wild theory or punishment for his unruly son and his unexplained absence.

Thankfully, the King had accepted Arthur's explanation of having needed some time. Truthfully the prince expected his father to explode at him, to dismiss the excuse and order him to accept how things were now. Yet Uther's eyes had softened momentarily before he reached an arm out to place on his son's shoulder.

"It is never easy to kill a subject." His eyes full of sorrow, he took a deep breath. "I do not expect you to be heartless but it is something you will have to do; whether or not it's what you want. Sorcery is a curse; a stain upon the land and it is up to us…" Uther drew back his arm again and spoke to the prince with the voice of authority that few in the kingdom ever dared to question. "It is up to you and I to rid our Kingdom of it. It won't get easier but it is something you will have to do."

The King looked into Arthur's eyes and the prince realised his father could not even conceive that his son might have actually gone out in search of his servant. No; Uther believed he had disappeared for some privacy while dealing with the guilt he expected the boy felt over the condemning of the woman.

Uther nodded; solemn, serious. "I trust you will be able to do right by the kingdom."

And Arthur just nodded.

What else could he have done?

That evening, dinner passed by in complete silence. Morgana spent most, if not all, of the time throwing concerned glances in Arthur's direction while Uther sat in seeming obliviousness. Arthur made no eye contact with either of them, picking at his food still lost within his own thoughts.

After ten minutes, unable to put it off any longer, he set down his cutlery and stood up without turning to either of his fellow diners.

"May I be excused?"

"Arthur!" Morgana glared at him, most likely she had intended to corner him after dinner, try and get some answers from him about his morning ventures. That was partly why he wanted to leave now but he still didn't look at her as he turned to his father.

"Sire?"

Arthur looked at his father with resolute eyes, he intended to go with or without the King's permission and Uther must have seen that as he merely looked at his son for a few seconds before nodding.

"Of course."

Arthur bowed in gratitude and strode out, not needing to think for even a second where he was heading.

* * *

><p>Gaius wasn't there when he'd arrived and so Arthur had sat at the table waiting for the physician to return from whatever errand he was most likely on. Where he sat was at the opposite end of the room to the cot where the young Merlin currently laid tangled within a mess of blankets. Since the moment he'd arrived Arthur had been nothing short of transfixed by the small, still form.<p>

Sunlight had faded away at some point in the last half an hour and in that time, apart from lighting some of the candles, Arthur had remained where he was, unsure if he was truly waiting for Gaius to return or for Merlin to wake up. Either way, neither had happened. The physician was most likely helping someone out in the town and hopefully he'd be back soon. Merlin on the other hand was surprisingly still; worryingly, other than the occasional fidget and shift about in the cot, the boy had barely moved from where Arthur had laid him that morning.

Even with a day of contemplation behind him, the prince was still unsure how he felt about this. The basics of how this had happened he understood, sorcery, complex as it could sometimes be, was generally easy to understand; no, what he struggled with was associating the fearful shaking boy he'd seen in the forest with his usually outspoken, stubborn-headed manservant.

Staring at the small bundle of blankets, his mind ran over each of the details he could remember from when he'd tried to protect Merlin. Back then his reaction had been instinctual, like he just knew that the boy he was protecting Merlin even though his only real clue had been that the boy recognised him instantly. The prince hadn't stopped for even a moment, convinced as he was that the boy stood behind him was his missing friend.

Closing his eyes, Arthur tried to recall that unquestionable belief he had before, willing himself to feel it now as he thought of the boy in the cot… but there was nothing; a huge great hole of nothing right in the centre of his chest.

"Sire?"

The sudden sound in the silence shocked the prince and he opened his eyes to see Gaius sitting opposite him.

"I'm sorry." Throwing a cautionary gaze around at the room, he momentarily caught the physician's eyes and went to stand up. "I probably should have-"

"It's fine." The man motioned for Arthur to sit down again, which the prince was grateful for. "I didn't expect you to stay away for too long." The man threw a quick glance to bundle of blankets behind him. "But Merlin still needs rest; we must keep the quiet."

Arthur followed the old man's gaze and sat with interlocked fingers, closely watching as Merlin shifted slightly once again.

"You're confused."

Arthur scoffed. "Why wouldn't I be?" He'd never been in contact with anything like this before, his father and his law against sorcery had seen to that. He took a deep breath. "What happened, Gaius?"

"Without knowing the spell that was used I'm afraid I can only guess."

Arthur's focus snapped to Gaius and the intensity with which the young boy glared at him caused the old man to draw back slightly. "Then guess."

Gaius paused, warily looking the prince up and down before continuing, "From what you've told me, it was a spell known as aetatis retro."

"What's that?"

"Aetatis retro is an extremely potent mixture of herbs and magic which, when combined correctly, causes the subject to…" he searched the air, eager to find the right words. "Decrease in age."

"They become younger." Magic wasn't something he knew, Gaius could have told him any combination of words and he'd be no wiser but what the spell did, he'd seen it for himself. Then his brow furrowed as he recalled the moment that had caused him to recognise his manservant. "But he remembered me. Merlin, he called me Arthur."

"It is true there are many spells that claim to reverse age but come with the sacrifice of experience." The old man sighed and Prince Arthur turned his attention over to the once again still form on the cot, still listening to the old man's words. "Aetatis retro is rumoured to be the only without this drawback." Gaius nodded solemnly, as he became aware of the change of Arthur's focus. "However it's unbelievably difficult to get correct. The use of that particular spell would certainly account for the explosion as well as Merlin's sudden…change."

Inside his head, Arthur struggled not to shout at Gaius to call a spade a spade and just say he was younger; after all that's what had happened to the boy. Taking in a deep breath, he prepared to mention something that was really pressing on his mind.

"What about his…disappearance?"

"What?"

"Merlin disappeared. He…he vanished." Turning to the physician he saw in the old man's eyes that he had no explanation. "Alright, so…" Carefully, Arthur exhaled and closed his eyes tightly. "How do we…reverse it; change him back?"

Gaius breathed a deep sigh before raising his eyes so as to look directly into the prince's eyes as he spoke; he knew that it was the only way he would convince Arthur of what he was going to say. "I don't know."

* * *

><p>The first thing he could remember becoming aware of was the fact that he was lying down; not somewhere particularly comfortable but almost certainly somewhere familiar.<p>

Although aware, he was still exhausted, perfectly content just to stay perfectly still on this slightly scratchy surface. There was probably something that he was meant to be doing but he couldn't really remember and to be frank he didn't want to.

Everything just felt so calm and so still; almost serene and he struggled to remember the last time he felt like this. Most likely it had been back home in Ealdor, living with his mother. No secrets, no lies, no pretending; he could rest easy, not have to worry about who was trying to kill Arthur or Uther. He missed that right now…at least he did until he realised he could hear someone talking.

Physically, he felt drained, but there was no way he would get back to sleep now as he could clearly make out two voices now talking in hushed tones. One of them was clearly Gaius, familiar as he was when Gaius would try to give him rest and the other, less quiet voice was Arthur's…which was unusual; why was Arthur there?

Merlin held a vague recollection from something happening in the forest but his head hurt when he tried to remember and so he settled back down, content as he currently was in his ignorance.

He paid the voices little attention allowing them just to wash over him until two words caught his ear. At the mere sound he felt his magic surge, forcing against his skin defensively, practically trying to burst out his entire being in an attempt to protect him.

"…aetatis retro…"

At the sound of those words, the warm, fuzzy blanket that previously was comfortably wrapped around him was making him too hot. Almost instantly he could feel sweat gathering on his brow and making his clothes cling to him in a sticky mess.

At the same time, a sensation starting around the edges of Merlin's back slowly and rather painfully began creeping inwards until his whole back was tingling with discomfort. Instinctively he curled into himself as the feeling turned into sharp burning throbs that were running up and down his entire back.

Unable to take it much more, he shifted attempting to dislodge the discomfort but failing and couldn't help but groan externally.

He felt the blanket almost ripped away from his body but his eyes remained tightly shut, exhausted as he still was and he didn't see who was above him. Thankfully though it exposed him to the cool night air which instantly began to cool him down but still he could feel his back almost as though it were on fire.

Merlin took some short sharp breaths as he rolled over in an attempt to get off his back, hoping against hope that it might lessen the discomfort that was quickly bursting into pain. Yet as he turned over he rolled into something and opened his eyes, seeing the obstruction to be Arthur, who was currently knelt beside him which was confusing.

It took a few moments to realise but Arthur's mouth was moving and he was trying to say something to him, except Merlin couldn't comprehend him. His brain still wasn't functioning enough for understanding but still the pain in his back was growing and he could feel his magic swelling, desperate to burst forth and help him.

Still, as much as Merlin knew allowing his magic to go to work on him would most likely relieve his pain, he knew he couldn't let it forth in Arthur's presence. For the moment though, at least, he needed to get off his back.

So he struggled against the hold Arthur suddenly seemed to have on him, the prince had seemed to take Merlin's shoulders in his hands, probably trying to get through to him but the boy twisted and struck out in an attempt to get free.

His back was in so much pain, and just from hearing "aetatis retro" and, as he felt his own power begin to swell even at the though of those words, he made a decision quite definitively and resolutely.

Merlin didn't like those words.

He didn't like those words at all.

* * *

><p>The men's conversation was interrupted when Gaius realised that Arthur wasn't paying him any attention any longer.<p>

"I fail to see why you would ask me questions when you proceed to ignore the answers."

"Something's wrong." Arthur hadn't even been looking at him and as soon as he'd finished he was out of his seat.

"Arthur." Turning, to follow the prince's route, he saw Merlin moving restlessly beneath the blankets he'd needed so desperately earlier. When he'd first arrived, Merlin had been shivering in the cold but now, even in the dark and lack of natural heat and light the boy was clearly in distress.

Quickly joining the prince at the side of the cot, Gaius watched with tentative curiosity as Arthur pulled back the blankets. Almost instantly, Merlin stilled slightly on exposure to the chilled air but it was clear from the amount of sweat that the boy was currently drenched in, something was wrong.

"Merlin." Arthur was on his knees next to the cot looking the young boy up and down, wary of touching his servant for fear of worsening whatever was going wrong. "Merlin, what is it?"

The boy rolled unintentionally into the prince's chest and instantly Arthur grabbed him gently by the shoulders, worried he might cause himself harm if left to just toss and turn. Unfortunately the boy didn't seem to take it that way struggling immediately to get free from the grip on his shoulders.

"Gaius…" Arthur gasped as he continued to try to restrain the young boy. "Gaius!"

The physician had barely heard the prince as his eyes caught sight of Merlin's back through the neck of his shirt when it was pulled partially away during the struggle. In that moment he realised what was going on.

Stepping over he placed a gnarled hand on the prince's shoulder. "I need you to get me some fresh water."

The blond prince looked up at him, still attempting to hold Merlin still. "Now?"

"He's feverish." Gaius watched as Arthur turned back to the boy and took in the obvious distress he seemed to be in. "I can handle him for the moment, but we need water to help cool him down."

Arthur took in all the sweat that covered the boy currently held down in the cot. Clueless where it had come from, he also realised that Merlin's face was bright red. The prince was no physician but he didn't need to be to know that wasn't the way he was supposed to look.

Looking Gaius in the eye and taking a deep breath, Arthur allowed Merlin's shoulders to fall back onto the cot but they didn't stay there for long as the boy's back slowly began to arch. Making his way towards the door, Arthur had to physically stop himself from stealing a look at the boy on his way out. He didn't quite succeed though, glancing over his shoulder at the door to see Gaius picking up a small stool and set it down next to the cot, reaching out to try and settle the boy laid upon it.

Gaius threw a glance towards the doorway, and once he was certain that Arthur wasn't coming back, the physician leaned in towards his young ward, placing his hand on the boy's shoulder and spoke confidently.

"Arthur's gone, Merlin. It's just you and me." It was near impossible to tell if the boy heard him as he was still shifting around, face contorted in discomfort "You have to stop fighting or you're going to hurt yourself." The boy shifted in the cot again, his face scrunching up against some unknown pain as he nearly rolled off the cot again. "I promise you it's safe. It's just us in here."

Merlin's eyes opened and caught Gaius' look of sincerity as the old man spoke again, yet they were clouded with a mixture of confusion and fear.

"I know you're afraid, and you don't want to give in, but you mustn't fight it." Slowly, Gaius watched as realisation grew within Merlin's eyes, yet it didn't quite overcome the fear within. Leaning in closer, he patted the boy on the shoulder trying to reassure him that it was going to be fine. "Trust me."

* * *

><p>As Merlin looked into the eyes of Gaius he managed to catch some of the words the old man was trying to say to him.<p>

"…you mustn't fight it."

The warlock felt his magic swell defensively again at Gaius' suggestion and Merlin understood what he meant, but the boy's lungs tightened in fear for what he had to do. Surrendering to his magic wasn't something he'd done before.

Since before he could remember, he'd been taught and told that he had to control it; so often he had struggled to rein it in and keep it secret, all in an effort to keep himself hidden; keep himself safe.

Yet now his guardian, who had so often chided him for using his magic, was giving him permission, actually encouraging him to let his magic run unhindered for once. So it was hardly surprising that Merlin was hesitant to do so.

Still, afraid as he was, Merlin couldn't stand it any longer, his entire back felt about ready to snap in two as he strained to keep it off the surface beneath him in an attempt to lessen the throbbing that was pulsating along his spine. Merlin couldn't take it anymore, the strain of holding his power in only making things worse.

There was a gentle pressure on his shoulder and he only heard two more words.

"Trust me."

And the boy took those words to heart as he finally gave up fighting, allowing his magic to expand forth from the small place within his chest where he had pressed it into a small ball.

Relief tickled along his arms before jumping and crackling across his entire body, a great wave of cold passing over every inch of his being and seeping through to his very core. All the sensation finally began to slow as it reached towards his back, carefully tripping and flitting over every throbbing muscle, instantly releasing all the tension they held and Merlin couldn't help but fall back onto the scratchy but otherwise comfortable surface as every part of him gave in to the exhaustion that his struggle had caused.

As every ounce of strength slowly drained away, Merlin knew what he'd done was against everything he'd ever been taught but for the life of him, he swore that he would never regret that moment for so long as he lived.

Then Merlin allowed the bliss of the darkness to swallow him whole.


	5. Recovery

**Disclaimer: **Yep, it all still belongs to the BBC not surprisingly.

**A/N: **So this one took a little longer than the last chapter and it's a bit shorter than to be expected but I started the next part and it just made more sense to end it where I have. It seems a bit filler but trust me, I know what I'm doing. Besides I (hopefully) answer some questions people keep posting. Also, you may notice that I changed the description and that's due to the story changing and evolving in response to reviews and responses off you so hopefully it's not too confusing. Anyway, thanks to all reviewers, alerters and favers, you're all very motivational and supportive. Please take the time to review and hopefully you enjoy this chapter.

**Additional A/N: **this won't mean much of anything to most people but there's a virtual cookie for anyone who spots the Starkid quote. I tried not to include it, really I did, but it worked too well.

**Chapter Five: Recovery**

Everything was silent when Arthur returned with a small pail of water. There was no screaming nor a sound of struggle coming through the open doorway to Gaius' chambers.

Finding this sudden silence to be rather haunting, but hopeful that it was a good sign, the prince trod carefully, keeping all sounds to a minimum as he cautiously stepped into the room.

"Gaius?"

The first thing he noticed was the cot as his eyes found it, precisely where it had been when he'd left not ten minutes before. Sat in the centre of the room there was a tangle of blankets covering it except where it had been pulled away from the occupant's face so that he might be able to breathe properly.

"I've managed to calm him." As would be expected, Gaius was still in the stool to the cot's side gently dabbing at the young boy's forehead with a damp cloth. Looking up, Gaius nodded to the table behind him that was sparsely covered with a few books and bottles. "Put it over there."

With a heave, Arthur raised the bucket up onto the work surface, careful not to spill any of the contents. A cloth was pushed into the water, making Arthur jump momentarily unaware as he was that the old man had moved with him. As Gaius began to wring out the cloth Arthur found himself drawn back to the cot and the boy who lay on it.

Although young, smooth and remarkably pale the face that was exposed to the air was unmistakably that of Merlin. Truly Arthur wondered how he could ever have doubted it. What really struck him was how very still he was, especially considering how he'd been barely minutes before.

"I don't understand." The sound of wood scraping against the floor caught Arthur's attention, causing him to realise his absent-minded murmur hadn't gone unnoticed.

Turning, he saw a chair stood behind him that had been moved from the table by Gaius as he returned to his ward's side. Arthur sat on the small, rather uncomfortable seat while the old man joined him, placing the newly dampened cloth on Merlin's brow.

A whole series of impossible questions were chasing round Arthur's head but he couldn't find the drive to ask any of them save for one.

"What happened to him, Gaius?"

"I was rather hoping you could tell me." Glancing across, he knew there was no accusation in the physician's tone; no blame, no anger, simply curiosity and possibly a small twinge of fear. "Tell me, sire. Everything that happened that morning; no matter how insignificant it may seem."

Taking a deep breath, Arthur explained what he'd seen in that house, every little thing he'd noticed including Merlin's unusual behaviour and the eerie silence that had hung in the air of the small house; from entering the front door to waking up with the servant missing.

Throughout the prince's retelling of events Gaius simply kept dabbing at Merlin's brow with the damp cloth; his only reaction came when Arthur mentioned the door shattering then he paused for but a moment before continuing as before.

There was but a moment's silence when he finished, Gaius wanting to be sure he had nothing more to add before speaking.

"That explains the cuts."

Arthur turned to Gaius finding the need to physically restrain his voice so as to maintain an acceptable volume as he spoke. "Cuts?"

Solemn was the nod the physician gave before placing the cloth in his hand to one side. He reached out gently whispering reassurances as Merlin groaned at being turned to his side. A mild yelp came from the boy as his shirt was lifted, exposing his back to the chilled air.

A similar yelp threatened to jump from Arthur's mouth as he saw the hundreds of small cuts that covered his back. All were varying shades of red and clearly quite painful as Merlin quietly protested again as Gaius returned the shirt and the boy to their original positions.

Dumbfounded Arthur found himself only further confused. "Pray tell, what _precisely_explains those?

"When the door shattered," Gaius picked up the cloth resuming his brow-wiping, "most likely due to the potion exploding, it would have cut Merlin's back." Arthur turned his attention to the boy again, not daring to interrupt knowing there was most likely more to be said. Sure enough, Gaius paused before turning to the prince. "What do you know of spells?"

"Uh…they're…bad?"

Surprisingly Gaius did not respond directly, glancing instead out of the window, darkened as it was by the night sky beyond. "Generally a spell can either be a potion or an incantation. The one I believe to be affecting Merlin is of a rare breed which combines the use of both.

"The potion is the instigator of the spell, activated at the recitation of the incantation. Once completed it can be stored and used multiple times allowing some semblance of immortality." Arthur watched as Gaius looked back down at the small person laid before the two of them. "If Merlin's back was cut open some of the potion could have got into his system."

"The incantation?"

"Indeed."

The prince wondered what on earth the words could be. But then it dawned on him. "You mean aet-?"

"Arthur!" Gaius' voice cut instantly through his with a stern anger that he had not heard the physician use since he was a young boy. Similarly his face was serious, more so than Arthur had seen it in a long while. "Listen to me, you _must__not_ say those words."

"What?" He was taken aback by this sudden, unmitigated anger directed at him.

"The potion is in Merlin's body and the spell will activate if those words are spoken in his presence."

Carefully running through the logic of what Gaius was saying to him, Arthur realised the real truth to what the man was saying. "So…he could still get younger?

Gaius sighed half-heartedly. "Hopefully not, but it's still a possibility."

"But wait. You said those words. Is that why-?"

With a nod Gaius spoke with a shaky confidence that did little to reassure Arthur's fears and worries. "I believe so."

"Then how come he's not younger now?" Sure enough, the Merlin he could see still looked to be around thirteen years. A bit scrawny perhaps but as might be expected from someone with a youth such as his.

"I won't pretend to know. But Arthur, no one at all must know those words and you _must__not_speak them. _Especially _not around Merlin. Do you understand?

Arthur looked at the small, seemingly fragile person who lay in the cot and allowed the memory of Merlin's fear and struggle in the forest to flood his thoughts. Never before had he seen his servant that afraid. A servant who not forty-eight hours ago had potentially put his own life at risk to protect the prince despite all the times he had expressed his distaste for the boy's lack of courage and use.

It was a stark change, chilling and sobering to the blond prince as he looked up to meet Gaius' gaze. Never before had anything he'd said held more weight or truth than the words that came from his mouth in that moment.

"Yes, yes I do…"

* * *

><p>It was remarkably quiet around him; barely a sound, no voices and only just the background noise of the castle beyond reached his ears as he slowly allowed awareness to drag him up through the dredges of blissful sleep towards consciousness.<p>

A series of thoughts and feelings played through his mind, fierce and fleeting, passing in mere moments but each second he recalled elicited a reaction from his still drowsy head… drowsy and damp it would seem. There was a sort of mild pressure on his forehead which was making all the skin underneath it feel a fair bit cooler than the rest of him.

There was a sudden flash of a memory that made him unmistakably wince but truly he felt nothing real, merely a phantom pain. A quiet shifting beside him brought him around slightly but he still mildly longed for the return of his previously blissful sleep.

"Merlin?" Involuntarily sighing at the familiarity of the voice beside him, Merlin knew he had to at least try to open his eyes.

Begrudgingly, he pried his eyelids apart and found himself surprised at the lack of light, unaware as he was that it was moonlight pouring in through the window instead of sunlight. Turning towards where he recalled the voice coming from, he unsurprisingly saw Gaius peering quizzically at him. At least he thought that was it, it was difficult to be sure when he was still a bit woozy and confused about…well about pretty much anything.

"Gai-" almost instantly he broke off into a harsh coughing fit, turning onto his side in an attempt to stop it. Quickly, there was a soothing hand on his back and when his lungs were no longer burning to throw themselves out his mouth Merlin opened his eyes and looked up.

This time he was able to see a great deal clearer, woken as he was by his own coughing. His body was still protesting but he knew it would be a while before he'd be able to settle again.

"Take it easy." Gaius was still rubbing Merlin's back and the boy found he wasn't entirely ungrateful for the gesture as it continued. "You've had a rough day."

Allowing his breathing to even out, Merlin found that he felt really quite calm where he was, content to stay like that for the rest of forever but still painfully aware it wouldn't last. Still Gaius said nothing that ripped the bliss away, which was nothing short of alarming…but Merlin found it hard to be too troubled by it, not wishing to tempt fate.

"I suppose you didn't hear mine and Arthur's conversation earlier."

And there it was, still it wasn't really what he'd been expecting Merlin combed through the mess of memories that were currently jumbled in his head but he silently shook his head, mumbling a rather muted, "No."

Gaius didn't reply and the silence matched the stillness of the air, which Merlin only noticed thanks to the great storm he'd been surrounded by the last time he'd been dozing.

"Do you know what happened to you, Merlin?"

The memory of seeing his sleeves threaten to swallow up his hands and tripping over his larger-than-they-should-be shoes were surprisingly fresh at the front of his memories, sitting on the opposite side of the mess in his head.

"Something…" He had changed, that was ridiculously obvious to anyone who happened to look at him, and even though he'd yet to see his own image in a mirror or reflection he knew something was very different. "Don't know… Something…"

The pressure gently rubbing circles into his back disappeared and Merlin missed it but made no movement to indicate so. Fatigue was slowly beginning to settle in and he found his current position far too comfortable to surrender yet.

"…S'wrong with me…?"

The mutter was quiet; it would barely be audible were it not for his continued stillness and Gaius felt a mild aching within his heart at the sound.

"There was a spell." Bending down to pick up the damp cloth the boy had dislodged when he'd awoken he paused. Keeping it simple would be best for now. "It went wrong and unfortunately you're the one suffering for it."

Although Merlin's eyes remained closed his brow furrowed slightly. "Spell?"

There were vague memories of some…explosion dancing at the edge of his memory which seemed to wish to attach themselves to this suggestion but it was a bit hazy. Yet there was more.

Instinctively, he flinched when he remember the unbearable pain, but only momentarily. Unfortunately it was enough to worry Gaius whose reassurances were repeated and an arm on Merlin's upfacing shoulder most likely belonged to the physician.

"…Pain…" he took in a sharp breath though clenched teeth.

"You're alright, Merlin. It's alright."

For the first time since waking he opened his bleary eyes so as to actually see his friend's reaction.

"How did I…?" he had an inkling but only when he looked into his friend's sincere eyes did he know it to be true. "Arthur!"

The reassuring hand on his shoulder held him down as he made an attempt to get up. "He saw nothing."

Contented with the response, Merlin found his eyes slowly drifting closed again. Physically, he felt drained, exhausted and wished only to rest but there was a mild bubbling of anger beneath the surface of his emotions at the fact he'd been awake barely ten minutes.

"I promise Merlin, I will do everything I can to help you." Of course he heard the unspoken 'go to sleep' that was behind those words but found it little reassurance.

"Why did…" He took in a deep breath and struggled not to yawn. Sadly, he failed, his mouth stretching wide betraying his, till then, well-hidden need for sleep. Gaius chuckled and the hand on Merlin's shoulder patted him gently. "did it hurt so…" he trailed off again but thankfully the physician picked up on what the boy meant.

"It was you who told me your magic is mainly instinctual." The hand on his shoulder was gently stroking along the top of his arm now. "What greater instinct is there than the one of self-preservation? Your magic was trying to fight the effects of the spell and you were fighting that instinct, worried you might reveal yourself.

"Gaius?" Merlin couldn't fight his need for sleep much longer but before he gave in to it, as he knew he eventually would, there was still one question that worried him. "I'm still…me? Right?"

If he looked different, people would treat him different and if they treated him different wouldn't that, essentially, make him different? I mean, a physical change was daunting enough to the young boy but if he was actually no longer himself…

"Merlin." Gaius chuckled as the hand on Merlin's shoulder slowly began shifting him so he was laid upon his back again. "I don't think there's any force, magical or not, that could stop _you_being who you are. Now go to sleep." There was an unmistakable hiss as sharp pains shot across Merlin's back.

Shortly after though, they were gone and he settled, gently allowing the fatigue to relax every muscle in his tense body.

* * *

><p>When Merlin winced at his back being lowered back onto the cot, Gaius did not flinch nor wince yet his mind and heart were not untroubled as he heard the boy's breaths slowly even out.<p>

The situation was a lot greater than it had been this morning, but it was also a good deal worse.

On the one hand, Arthur had found Merlin, safe and sound, one hundred percent alive and returned him to the castle. On the other hand he was now barely a young boy, infected with the spell that afflicted him and greatly worn. And that was barely the start of it.

For surely the greatest problem would come should Uther discover that Merlin was not only returned but suffering under the influence of a spell which supported the witch's claim that her intention to heal her father. Although Gaius did not wish to believe that Merlin would get killed for his unintended and helpless involvement, it was not an action he doubted the King to be capable of.

And all of this did not even take into consideration the obvious necessity to find a cure for Merlin's youth.

In the morning he would need to confer with both the prince and the manservant about what possibilities lay before them and what their next step might have to be.

Taking a deep breath, Gaius stood up.

He had done all he could for the boy for the moment. If he himself did not get any rest he would be useless to a great many people the next day.

Stealing a final glance at the sleeping innocent face of his ward, he couldn't help but smile.

"Sleep well, Merlin."


	6. Permissions, Plans and a Neckerchief

**Disclaimer: **Oh how I wish I could have conceived some of the wonderous things I have witnessed upon this show (particularly this series) and yet alas, I'm afraid not.

**A/N:** I'm remarkably and unequivocally proud of this chapter even though...well I won't spoil it for you but I've not really done much writing like this before and I'm kind of proud of it. The last two thirds were written over the last few hours and the chapter name was difficult but I think, apt. Thanks to all reviewers, alerters and favers. If you could please let me know how I've done with this chapter as it's not a style I'm used to and I'm worried I over played it a bit so please review. And as always please do enjoy ¦) lady-h

**Chapter Six: Permissions, Plans and a Neckerchief**

Uther watched as his son strode across the room brazenly and with an air of confidence he felt belonged to a man of his son's title and lineage. First thing this morning he had received a message from Arthur asking for a few moments audience before they began the jobs of the day. Of course he had agreed waiting patiently for barely five minutes within the throne room.

"What is it Arthur?" The prince held up his right hand and handed Uther the paper tightly clasped within it.

"This is the spell used by the sorceress when we entered her home, recovered by a servant yesterday afternoon." He cast his eye over the untidy scrawl that covered the paper. There was little of it that made any sense to the king. "She claimed it was sold to her by a travelling sorcerer." Looking up, he caught his son's eyes and saw what it was the boy intended to propose, angered at the mere thought of it.

Returning his eyes to the paper, Uther scoffed. "There is little trust worth putting into the words of a wielder of magic."

"You would rather this was allowed to continue?"

Looking up again, he caught his son's piercing gaze and saw within it almost immediately what the boy's true motives and intentions were and struggled not to lose his temper. "Arthur! All this trouble over a servant."

"Don't you see? This is about more than just a servant. This _man-_" Arthur, who had become angered and was almost shouting, stopped, carefully reforming himself and lowering his voice. "This man is selling spells to people. _Our_people." The prince reached out a single finger and jabbed at the paper. "Not sorcerers but ordinary citizens and we _need_to stop him."

Never before had Uther seen such a level of resolution and determination in Arthur's eyes. He'd already made his mind and if his father spoke against it, were he to forbid the venture Arthur would merely go around Uther and do it anyway. It would be that awful poisoned goblet incident all over again.

And even so, if it was true that this man _was_selling spells within his kingdom, it needed to be dealt with and what's more, if the prince _wasn__'__t_allowed to go, he would remain distracted. As much as he knew of Arthur's motives, the situation seemed to fit.

Sighing, Uther lowered his head, resigned to the decision which had essentially been made for him. "How many men will you need?"

"No men, just me." Uther glared at Arthur.

"Arthur!" Regardless of the situation he would not allow his son to pursue a sorcerer unguarded and alone.

"The man is a traveller. It'll be difficult enough to convince him to come forward. It'll be even worse if he believes himself to be hunted by knights of Camelot."

There was once a time when a single glare from his father would silence the boy, scare him into submission but looking at the prince now, he stood tall, defiant and unwavering. The man before Uther now was a far cry from the boy Arthur had been but a year ago.

Still the king did not believe Arthur should investigate this alone, if only because of the question of the boy's motives. And of course, that's disregarding the fact that this quarry was a seller, and therefore most likely a user of magic.

"If it's just me then he's more likely to lower his guard. I should be able to apprehend him perfectly alright on my own."

Uther sighed a great sigh, knowing so well as he did that his son's words were true. Still there was a grave doubt hanging over the prince's true motives for this pursuit. No matter what he said, the King knew this was intended as some form of retribution for his servant.

"Very well." The boy was mourning, in his own way. Best to let him try and help him should he fail. "You will have five days. After this time the knights will ride out to investigate and retrieve you if necessary." He carefully rolled the paper up once again and held it out to his son. "Is that understood?"

Arthur bowed his head in humbled acceptance, taking the paper from him and immediately turning to leave.

"Arthur." The prince paused half-turning back to look at his father in question. "Be careful."

Smiling, Arthur bowed his head again before turning and continuing out the door.

* * *

><p>"Arthur!" Guinevere rushed along the remainder of the corridor to where the Prince had just emerged from the throne room. "I managed to find some."<p>

Raising the cloth she was carrying up for his inspection, she watched as a slight smile grew on his face. He reached out taking the cloth and slinging it carefully over his right arm before placing his left hand on the handmaiden's shoulder.

"What would I do without you?" Patting her on the shoulder he turned to leave.

"Arthur." She reached out a hand grabbing his right arm and turning him back to face her, a look of confusion on his face. "Is everything alright?" Asking for the clothes she'd given him had been the first proper interaction he'd been seen to have with anyone and she was worried.

The request had been to another servant but Gwen had taken the responsibility when she'd run into him, desperate to see how Arthur was holding up. Truthfully, he seemed more at ease with the situation than she had expected. Then she watched as his slight smile fell away and a series of emotions passed over his face, before settling into confusion.

"Oh." Turning away slightly he looked to the floor, his shoulders visibly sagging and Gwen felt a twang of guilt at the sudden change in him. "It's complicated."

Gwen shied back, withdrawing her arm. "I'm sorry, Arthur. I-"

"No. It's okay." She almost jumped as he reached out and placed his hand on her shoulder again. "I'm not entirely sure how but…" Gwen watched as a small smile gently graced his lips again as he talked. "It's gonna be okay." Arthur patted her on the arm before pulling away to walk down the corridor.

She wasn't sure but in the smallest moment when their eyes had caught, she could have sworn she'd seen a small, shimmering glint of hope, strong and unwavering rooted deep within them. Dwelling on that small moment in her memory as she watched him walk away, Gwen felt her heart sink, the thought of it both cheering and daunting.

"Arthur…"

* * *

><p>Awoken earlier than normal by another replacement servant, Arthur had struggled to keep his thoughts off the boy in Gaius' chambers as he prepared himself for the day. Much like yesterday, none of the food on the plate held any real appeal, not even feeling the need to pretend and pick at the scraps. Even the bread looked wholly unappealing to him.<p>

Instead he grabbed the first servant who passed by his room and ordered them to go request an immediate audience with the King on his behalf and then to find some children's clothes and bring them straight to Arthur.

There was never any doubt within Arthur's mind that Merlin had to go with him. Convincing Uther that this trip needed to be made would be an easy task compared to persuading Gaius to let the boy leave.

Already he had prepared a list of reasons why he needed Merlin to be at his side; the first of which being that he couldn't afford to be distracted by his concern for the boy while on this quest.

Not to mention the man who had been chasing Merlin out in the woods. The memory of Merlin's fear and the man's threat stood proud and resilient within his thoughts and Arthur knew he would feel greater at ease were he able to defend the boy himself.

But, most of all, Arthur _needed_ to have Merlin at his side. Not necessarily to fulfil his duties as he would normally but just so that it would feel no stranger than any other mission or quest that the prince had undertaken. You see, since the first day that Uther had made the boy his own personal manservant, Arthur had never faced any threat without him by his side. And if truth be told, were Merlin not there to remind Arthur of his continued good health and existence…truthfully he wasn't entirely sure what he might do.

So here he was, stood outside the door to Gaius' chambers, clothes hanging over his right arm and the fingers of his left hand splayed out against the oaken wood. He was poised to push open the door but he had paused, that image of Merlin struggling in the cot last night currently frozen in his mind.

Closing his eyes and swallowing the thoughts and memories, he pushed forward against the door, opening it and entering the physician's rooms.

As before, the first thing he saw was the cot; the difference was that the boy in it was splayed across it, clearly comfortable and snoozing softly. A gentle laugh escaped Arthur's lips at the sight of Merlin's calm face, a far cry from the pained expressions of last night.

Looking across the room he saw a vast spread of books and as he approached, he saw that all of them were open to different pages and each spoke of medicine and lore and other such things that were far beyond the reach of Arthur's knowledge.

Gaius was nowhere to be seen, most likely already out tending to his other patients around the castle and the nearby residences. With no sign of any servant left to watch over the boy, Arthur felt comfortable in his assumption that Merlin wasn't in any real trouble anymore.

Unfortunately, Gaius' absence was not something he had thought to consider. He had, rather stupidly, taken it for granted that the physician would be present when he arrived to talk to Merlin. Still, maybe this was a good thing; it would allow them to leave unchallenged and Arthur could explain everything when they returned.

An intense feeling of unease sat in the prince's chest at this thought but he knew that the fewer questions he had to answer, the sooner he could get to searching for this sorcerer; this seller of spells.

Sighing deeply Arthur returned to the end of the cot before leaning forward and gently grabbing his servant's shoulder, shaking it in an attempt to wake the boy.

"Merlin?"

* * *

><p>There was a kind of mumbling in the background and Merlin struggled greatly to cling to being asleep. It was brilliant and relaxing and stress-free but all hope of staying under was shattered as he felt someone tapping on his cheek in an attempt to bring him round. Unfortunately, it was rather effective; too effective and Merlin shifted in his sleep in protest, bitterly aware of how it was never going to work.<p>

"C'mon, Merlin."

More tapping on his cheek and he managed to get a few muted mumbles out in complaint; nothing of any actual worth or meaning just a few murmurs. Something along the lines of 'Go 'way.'

"Merlin, wake up."

Groaning, Merlin realised he knew that voice and knew oh-so-well that it wouldn't go unbidden for too long due to the impatience of its owner. Stupid bloody prince.

"_Mer_lin!"

With a great *punf* something soft and weighty hit him harshly in the face, crushing his nose rather painfully and he punched out instinctively, his fist-curled fingers hitting something hard while the harsh contact reverberated up his arm.

"Ah!" Flinching back from severe pain, he just about managed not to defensively curl in on himself. What the _hell _had he hit?

"Well if you _are _going to punch a table." Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, the servant forced them open, shooting an angered glare towards the prat of a prince stood over him.

Rather annoyingly, the prince had a stupidly satisfied grin on his face while dressed in his more plain clothes instead of his more regal attire that Merlin had rather strangely been expecting. "Come on. It's time to get up."

Carefully, he sat up cradling his slightly throbbing head in one hand while he squinted, blinking hastily against the bright light streaming through the window to the side. As his vision cleared Merlin caught sight of a bundle of cloth clutched, almost triumphantly, in Arthur's left hand. No doubt that was what had made contact with his face; with a little encouragement from Arthur's grip, of course.

"What is it? What's going on?" Glancing around, he noticed the elderly physician wasn't nearby which was wholly unusual given the fact Merlin had awoken on the cot. Normally he was always the first person the boy would see when he awoke. "Where's Gaius?"

"There's no time to explain. Here." Merlin managed to catch the cloth as the prince threw it in his direction. Pulling at one fold it extended upwards until it stuck out almost perpendicular to the bundle. A sleeve? What the-?

"Arthur?" Reaching up to wipe away the foggy feeling that was sticking behind his eyes, it only melted away to confusion as his vision cleared again to show the prince with one foot out the door already. "Wait, where are you going? What's happening?"

"Meet me at the edge of town in half an hour."

"But Arthur-!" It was too late, he was already gone and with a mind still filled with confusion Merlin gazed down at the clothes, for that's what they were, gathered in his arms.

"What was _that _about?"

* * *

><p>The morning air was brisk, cold and chilling as it whipped itself around Merlin while he leant against a small hut-like house towards the outskirts of central Camelot. Having not waited for Gaius to return was a decision he was sure he would come to regret when he returned, but he was fairly sure he wouldn't be able to explain why he was leaving considering he didn't really know the reason himself.<p>

Absent-mindedly, he stroked up and down the sleeve of the blue shirt he was wearing for the third time since he'd left the castle. It was terribly disconcerting wearing an unfamiliar shirt but he wouldn't deny that it was reassuring to not be near-drowning in his regular clothes.

The street was fairly deserted, as it was quite a walk from the bustling marketplace although still reachable. Still, Merlin was grateful that there were few passers-by. Since he'd dressed himself in the clothes given him by Arthur he'd been almost hyper-aware of the fact he was…shorter for one thing.

Sighing, he scolded himself. It was more than being shorter that had him scared. After managing to find some boots that fitted, which Arthur seemed to have forgotten, Merlin had managed to walk straight out the castle without anyone stopping him, and although he knew it was because he was so much younger…well it was just haunting.

He'd received a few sympathetic smiles from some of the female servants he'd passed and it just hurt to know that, rather than having any worth, they came simply because he was basically a child.

Leaning back against the wall of the house his hand drifted up to his neck which felt oddly bare without his neckerchief tied around it. Although no one seemed to think twice of a child who bore a striking resemblance to Merlin he was fairly sure they would suspect something if he was seen wearing an item of clothing that no other servant had been seen to wear and so it was he'd left it back in the castle.

"Merlin." Flinching at the sudden sound from beside him, Merlin turned to see Arthur stood a short way away. Slung over the prince's right shoulder were two satchels held in place with great difficulty using only one hand which the prince promptly removed and lowered to the floor.

Strangely, Arthur was not weighed down, as he would normally be by armour and chainmail, for once he stood tall dressed simply in a plain red shirt, not that dissimilar from the blue one Merlin was wearing. Still, despite his otherwise simple appearance, Arthur kept a sword, strong and powerful, at his side, hanging rather conspicuously from his belt. Even so, Merlin found it difficult to be annoyed by the presence of the weapon, his encounter the day before still present in his memory

"You're on time. For once."

This time Merlin rolled his eyes as melodramatically as he possibly could but couldn't help but mirror the smirk Arthur was wearing.

Pushing himself up off of the side of the house Merlin stood up and tried to ignore the fact Arthur was still too much taller than him.

"How are the clothes?"

Resisting the urge to shift his shoulders inside the new shirt Merlin pondered his answer for a moment. "…Odd."

"Just be thankful that my father is sentimental about items from my childhood."

Merlin struggled to not stare in a combination of confusion and disbelief "These are _your_clothes?"

"Well, where did you think I got them?"

This time Merlin shifted within the shirt; he had never thought these clothes belonged to the prince himself. It felt like some form of betrayal to Arthur or something; these fancy clothes did not belong on _his _back.

"Never mind, Merlin." The prince looked frustrated with waiting for a response and indicated the road that led away from Camelot. "Come on. We only have five days."

"Only? Arthur, what's going on?"

"I'm going looking for answers." The prince sighed a deep sorrowful sigh, briefly closing his eyes before continuing. "I figured you'd want to be there when I found them." As Arthur opened his eyes again, Merlin saw the blond man looking at him with a look that he just couldn't quite place. It seemed to be a mixture of sorrow and pity.

"Thanks. I guess…" He watched as a smile grew on the prince's face before he stooped down to pick up one of the satchels at his feet. As he rose again, he raised an expectant eyebrow at Merlin. Confusion slowly turned to realisation and Merlin's shoulders sagged. "_Really_?"

Shifting the strap on his own shoulder up a bit, Arthur merely smirked. "I'm carrying one too, Merlin."

"Fine." Bending down he wrapped his fingers around the strap and hoisted it up and onto his shoulder. The satchel was lighter than he was expecting but still quite weighty, most likely containing provisions and blankets and, if he knew Arthur, some small weapon for basic defence.

Pulling it up onto his shoulder, Merlin paused as he caught sight of the way Arthur was looking at him. It was an overly dramatic look of contemplation that was quickly starting to really annoy him.

Finally, Merlin dropped the satchel to the floor in anger. "What?"

Smirking, Arthur merely swung his own satchel off his shoulder and as he did so, Merlin noticed how it seemed to be heavier than his own. He watched as the prince opened the flap and began to rummage around inside.

As he rolled his eyes for what seemed the millionth time, Merlin didn't see what it was that Arthur eventually pulled from the depths of the bag and watched in confusion as he lowered it to the floor before stepping forward. Instinctively, he cringed away as Arthur reached around the back of his neck and felt the prince's hands fumble away.

"There." Reaching up, Merlin swatted away the seemingly fussy hands and shot a look of anger at Arthur as he stepped back with an annoyingly familiar smugness that he hadn't seen since they'd left to investigate that house. "Much better."

Confused, Merlin looked down at his neck, curious as to what exactly the man before him had done and struggled not to smile at what he saw. Of course, the boy failed miserably and had to settle with not laughing as his lips drew back into a wide smile.

Reaching up to his neck once more he gripped the navy blue neckerchief tightly between his fingers and chuckled silently. Glancing up at the prince before him he saw a sly look that made him feel more at ease with himself than he had since he'd disappeared in the house.

He threw another glance down at the neckerchief, comforted by the warmth it was giving his neck. "You wouldn't have done that if I didn't look like a child, would you?"

Arthur reached out ruffling Merlin's scruffy raven hair as he shook his head still smiling. "Never in a million years."

Smirking, Merlin reached down to pick up the satchel again, quickly shifting it onto his shoulder and watched as Arthur shifted around his own satchel raising his shoulder into the strap so it didn't slip off.

"Come on. Let's go." Arthur turned and started off along the road that led away from Camelot.

Merlin followed, quickly falling in step beside the Prince as he so often did. There was a silence that was only broken by the steady footfall of the two travellers as they walked along the road.

"So… How long were you planning that?"

Throwing a sideways glance at the boy, Arthur tried not to look insulted and only half-succeeded. "What makes you think I was planning it?"

"You're a terrible actor, Arthur." The grin settled down into a smirk as he watched Arthur's anticipated reaction.

"Shut up, Merlin."


	7. Nothing Wrong

**Disclaimer:** I hereby disclaim any right (which I don't have) to claim that I own the show or characters or other such devices.

**A/N: **I know this is a bit later than my usual updates but given I had an assignment due Monday, have another due Friday, a weekend of castle visits to plan and my nephew's birthday coming up, frankly I'm lucky to be getting anything out this week at all. Not to mention after last episodes 'next time' teaser, I've been scouring the net for spoilers and so yeah... But hopefully the fact that this chapter's about 30% longer than my average updates will make up for it (that's right I did the math). Also, last week I sat and managed to plan most, if not all, the rest of this story out and have changed the summary (again) accordingly, but trust me you will understand in time. So here you go, an extended, slightly late update. Please review!

**Additional A/N: **I also want to mention Jane Mays who made a great point regarding the potion affecting Merlin and I don't want to say what it was for fear of spoiling this chapter but hopefully I address it enough. If not let me know (about other mistakes/problems/omissions as well) and I'll get to it when I have the time.

**Chapter Seven: Nothing Wrong**

Golden streaks were scattered across the sky, dissolving into a slight pinkish-purple haze as it faded towards the horizon. Few clouds destroyed the beauty that spread out above Camelot, allowing the warming rays of the setting sun to warm the air around them as they walked along the road to yet another town.

So far today they had been through around four settlements, slowly drawing further and further away from the castle they'd left that morning. Unfortunately too many of the people they'd approached had recognised Arthur as the heir apparent and as such their answers were as would be expected.

They were worried Uther had sent him and all of them spoke proudly, fiercely of their opposition to magic and those who use it. Some seemed less assured of their proclamations but Arthur knew pressing them would get him no further.

Merlin had had worse luck, if it were possible. Each person he spoke to scolded him, telling him he ought to know that such topics were forbidden by law. One well-meaning but otherwise useless woman had hissed at him to beware as the prince was nearby seeking out sorcerers and such questions would put him under suspicion.

Still, during the times they were walking Arthur noticed how Merlin seemed rather upbeat for someone in his situation. Although he didn't chatter incessantly as he normally would, he managed to keep pace with the prince who now walked one stride for every three of his servant's.

The well-worn track they trod now, passed between a series of sparsely placed trees. Great, thick, gnarled beings that granted a great deal of coverage as the high greenery created a thin canopy that caused the golden sunlight to scatter and dance as the wind gently buffeted the leaves overhead.

It could barely be considered early evening but as Arthur heard a crash behind him he stopped, rolled his eyes and sighed. The sight that greeted him was one he'd seen around four times already in the last hour; Merlin face-down on the dusty track already struggling to get up again.

As before, the boy pushed himself to his hands and knees, muttering out a string of apologies while avoiding Arthur's gaze.

The prince watched as Merlin tried and fail several times to get to his feet for the next few minutes, his look growing more and more concerned. "What's the matter?"

A few moments silence stretched out between them before Merlin sighed exasperatedly and carefully sat back. "I can't get up."

"You can't get up?" Merlin just shrugged, his eyes seemingly fixed on the ground around Arthur's feet, clearly embarrassed at his current condition. The prince closed his eyes reaching up with his right hand to rub them in frustration. "You can't get up."

"You're not making me feel better."

The turn of tone in Merlin's voice flooded Arthur with concern, devoid as it was of his usual charming and cheery nature. Opening his eyes, the boy he saw knelt at his feet was almost a stranger to him.

Merlin was bent over, facing straight down with one hand raised to his face while the bag had been lowered to his side. A sniff carried up to the prince's ears as Merlin's shoulders tensed…

He was crying…

"Come on." Dropping his bag at his feet, Arthur leant over hooking Merlin's free arm and wrapped his own arm around the servant's chest. Feeling Merlin freeze at the unexpected motion, he chose to ignore it, instead pulling up gently to make sure he had a firm hold before lifting the now silent boy to his feet.

Knowing that to actually lift his servant would only worsen his already shaky mood, Arthur settled with guiding him towards the edge of the path to sit beside one of the great trees. Once certain that Merlin was safely seated, Arthur untangled himself before striding back to middle of the road.

Moments later he returned with the satchels placing them to one side. Turning slightly, he noticed Merlin watching him with an empty expression.

Although they had split up while searching in the towns, Arthur had watched Merlin as closely as he could without alerting the boy to his observant gaze. While his ward had recovered from whatever fit had gripped his body the evening before, Gaius had expressed to the Prince his concerns over the effect the physical transformation would have on his mind.

"Everyone will see him as a child and treat him as such but he is still the same man he was when you set out on your investigation." The physician's heart had been heavy as he explained his meaning to a confused Arthur. "No matter how or who you are, there is only so long you can be treated a certain way before you begin to question things that you know to be true."

Gaius had gone on to recall several times when the Prince was but a young boy and he had stated how he didn't understand why everyone was starting to treat him differently than any other child his age. "They treated you as though you could do no wrong, as though everything you said or did was nothing short of miraculous and eventually you became proud. Arrogant and over-confident to an overbearing degree."

Until Merlin.

He remembered quite clearly how, even once the boy knew who he was, Merlin had refused to acknowledge the Prince as his better, instead mocking him after witnessing his heinous actions towards his servant of the time. Since then, even Arthur had noticed that he challenged his father more over his decisions.

So it was, that Arthur had sworn to do what he could to treat Merlin the same as he always had. Only it wasn't that easy; for one thing the boy kept tripping over, more so than usual and every time he seemed shocked, as though his distance from the floor was constantly taking him by surprise and Arthur always felt the overwhelming need to help the clearly embarrassed boy to his feet. Then, every once in a while, he would become distant and quiet, avoiding eye contact with pretty much anyone, settling for short answers and a shy grin when Arthur tried to strike up conversation.

The prince wanted to help his friend and servant but Merlin wasn't exactly making it easy.

"Are you okay?"

Merlin turned his face from the sudden attention, a mixture of shame and fear burning in his cheeks. Slowly, the boy bent his legs, reaching out an arm around them and drawing them to his chest before resting his turned cheek on his knees. "M'fine."

That was obviously a lie. Despite his cheery disposition there was no denying that the day hadn't been easy on Merlin. The fact he was trying to make himself as small as possible was evidence enough. Sitting down opposite the young boy, Arthur watched him carefully but Merlin didn't move in the slightest.

"What's wrong with me?"

The murmur was silent and could easily have been lost, carried off by a summer wind were it not that the comfortingly warm air around them was still, and Arthur felt a shiver of worry tempered with anger flush through him. It was wrong that the servant should feel driven to ask such a question; no matter what happened, no man…boy…no _one_ should feel the need to question themselves in such a way.

As Merlin drew up and looked over his knees towards the prince there was a great sadness within those eyes. For probably the hundredth time since this had started Arthur found himself shocked at how, even though his body had changed rather drastically, the boy's eyes were still so full of experience, emotion and, perhaps greatest of all, distress.

Even in the slowly dimming light of the sunset, he could see the bright blue orbs glistening with the tears the boy was no doubt forcing to stay within his eyes.

"There's nothing wrong with you." Arthur spoke as plainly, clearly and calmly as he could, not wishing to sound patronising or condescending. The way he had seen many people treat Merlin during the day. "You just look a little different."

"Is that all?" Like his eyes, Merlin's sarcasm was far too familiar to possibly belong to anyone other than Arthur's manservant. Yet, the use only stung as he realised it didn't come from the boy's need to say what he thought as he was accustomed.

Those dejected blue eyes fell to his own knees before gently burrowing into his folded arms. Arthur's instinct was to look away but instead he kept his focus on the small, frightened form before him, hoping to commit the image to memory and allow it to drive him in the days to come.

"It doesn't matter how you look, Merlin." The prince struggled to find a name for the gnawing pain that sat heavy in his chest as he continued to watch his servant, but even so he managed to keep the pain from his voice as he spoke. "You're still the same person."

There was no movement but the sound of a vague murmur was lost in the boy's arm. Slightly worried but otherwise untroubled, Arthur leant back against the tree letting out a great sigh, closing his eyes as he allowed his head to fall back onto the bumpy gnarled bark.

Try as he might he couldn't fight the smile that resiliently forced up the corners of his mouth. "Certainly complain enough."

A muffled snort followed by some near-silent sniggers caused his smile to grow as the harmless comment had the expected result.

Some things should never change.

* * *

><p>The same old servant he may be but physically Merlin was still a child and as such his body wasn't as durable as it had become through serving the prince. That was why he kept collapsing; it was the boy's body telling him that he couldn't go any further; he had to stop before he burnt out.<p>

Despite Arthur repeatedly and consistently trying to convince him to stay down Merlin kept trying to get up, even if just to gather some firewood as the sun continued to disappear beyond the horizon. Except, his body was still against him, exhaustion and fatigue beginning to claim a large portion of the feeling in his legs.

It was with a great flush of embarrassment that he watched as Arthur instead gathered the kindling, lit the fire and used some of the food they had to create some soup which he passed directly to Merlin who took it in earnest, but paused as the heat coursed through the tips of his fingers.

The comforting feeling tingled through them, its tantalising tendrils encouraging the muscles in his hand to relax, although only slightly. As he ate, he noticed the sensation spread throughout his entire body, beginning to realise how greatly tired he truly was. Still, he fought the fatigue not willing to allow it to win just yet.

Once Arthur had dealt with the remainder of the food, he sat down where he had been before, a small pile of firewood not too far from his feet and gazed over the blazing fire that now sat between them. So bright and warming were the flames that Merlin had barely noticed that the sun had passed, allowing the dank, cold, blackness of the evening to settle over the land.

Closing his eyes, Merlin allowed his mind to turn to his magic, the sound of which was practically silent just as it had been all day. True, there was a slight restless quality to it, clearly wishing to right something wrong, and he felt he could make an educated guess as to what that was, but otherwise there were no problems.

Contented, he opened his eyes again, looking over the fire in confusion at the blanket that covered the prince before looking down and seeing a similar one covering himself as he laid, supported between two large roots of the tree behind him.

He didn't remember shifting position… How on Earth had that happened?

"You're exhausted, Merlin." Arthur wore a relaxed smile as he watched Merlin's confusion in amusement. "Try and get some more sleep."

_More_ sleep?

Had he been to sleep already? He certainly didn't feel like it.

Yet as his eyes slowly fluttered closed, he realised he didn't really care, because sleeping, you know, sounded pretty brilliant right now. So with the sounds of the fire crackling before him, he felt overwhelming comfort and relief as he allowed the exhaustion to claim him…again, apparently.

Merlin didn't dream, at least not that he recalled, but after some time he was slowly brought to half-awareness by the nearby sound of movement. Still sort of delirious from being half-asleep he began to shift and stir in reaction to his flaring magic.

The previously restless power that had been bubbling within him was going wild, spiking and fighting to burst forth and protect him from whatever was nearby. It probably would have done so if he didn't have the clear memory of Arthur being sat across from him. He couldn't risk Arthur being the one moving around, as unlikely as that was.

Then strange, silent, softly spoken words, obviously laced with magic floated into his conscious as he felt someone's breath on his left ear.

_Somnus puero puer._

_Non est hic molestias._

_Tutum est somnus usque mane._

_Lorem._

He didn't understand the words, nor did he recognise the spell but from the first word his magic slowed, growing smaller and quieter as he felt himself slipping back into a deeper level of blissful unawares.

He heard nothing beyond those words, more than happy to lose himself in this calming nothingness he'd found where even his magic was silenced.

* * *

><p>"You're exhausted Merlin." Arthur was concerned, Merlin couldn't have been asleep more than half an hour but already he was sitting up again looking around in confusion. His eyes were still heavy and half-closed as they finally found the prince's face through the flames. "Try and get some more sleep." Merlin frowned at him, seemingly surprised to see Arthur, before sluggishly giving a half-nod as he lowered himself back down to the ground.<p>

As the servant's breaths evened out, Arthur became increasingly aware of the growing protests of his own aching body. Fatigue stretched along each of his muscles, it was slowly but surely invading his mind and he found himself considering the fact that maybe it might be a good idea to try and sleep. Naturally he fought it, wishing to keep watch in case of bandits or potential threats, the memory of that would-be attacker fresh within his head.

In an attempt to keep his mind alert, the Prince thought back upon the events of the evening.

Arthur had been shocked to see just how desperately Merlin gulped down the pretty shoddy soup he had made. Almost as though he hadn't eaten in days…which thinking about it was entirely possible.

The boy made a comment about whether the prince was going to eat but Arthur just waved the concern away. He wasn't the most competent of cooks and when he finished the soup there was about enough for one of them and well, Merlin was the one who was under the influence of a spell; not to mention the collapsing or the fact that his eyes were slowly drawing closer together.

Arthur didn't think much of Merlin falling silent as he cleared up, lost as he was within his own thoughts. It wasn't until he turned that he noticed Merlin slumbering peacefully.

Due to the lack of tension left in his body, the boy had slumped down, partially turning to his side and Arthur couldn't help but smile. Merlin may still be his manservant but he couldn't deny that it was nice to see such a heartening sight.

Still, it did look rather uncomfortable sleeping in such a way; the boy kept shifting in his sleep but never quite managed to move much so, retrieving the blankets he'd packed into their satchels, Arthur proceeded to settle the boy into what he hoped was a more comfortable position, laid on his back between two protruding roots.

Merlin shifted in response, a few mumbles escaping his lips, most likely in protest at the unexpected movement but he didn't wake, even as Arthur threw one of the blankets over his legs. He shifted again at the sudden weight but settled down, one hand unconsciously gripping the top of the cloth.

Fatigue began to claim Arthur again once he sat down, covering himself in the other blanket as he began to feel the biting cold of the increasing night seep into his body.

His tired eyes scanned the edges of darkness just beyond the reach of the fire's comforting light. This position wasn't exactly ideal, they were rather exposed but necessity is the mother of doing that you normally wouldn't…or something like that.

Every time he closed his eyes they threatened to remain that way. No matter how much he fought to stay alert, there was no stopping the heaviness that was slowly taking over his mind. Breathing deeply, he smelt the ashen remnants that were falling from the fire with a hint of the soup flying on the wind and it seemed to entice him towards sleep.

Awareness slowly trickled into his mind and Arthur realised that he must have fallen asleep. Silently cursing himself, he tried to resist the urge to jerk himself awake simply letting himself take in everything piece by piece.

He never thought to question why he was awake, the lack of bright sunlight was surely proof enough that it wasn't morning yet but there was something nagging at him; something that was wrong, something that was right there and he just wasn't seeing it. Or hearing it.

There was movement; beyond the quiet crackling of the fire and the gentle rustle from the canopy overhead, there was the sound of someone moving around, carefully and with great purpose.

Still somewhat drowsy, he reached instinctively for his sword as he struggled to bring himself to full awareness, wanting to identify and deal with the immediate threat but not wishing to startle the attacker. Continuing to feign sleep he listened as the footsteps moved slowly and almost silently away from where he lay until they stopped a short way off. The empty silence that dragged out was terrifying but Arthur would have given anything to not hear what came next.

Unfamiliar words, spoken slowly in a soft hushed voice carried over to him from where the intruder was but there was no denying that each breath of them was laced with powerful magic. The shock forced his eyes openly suddenly, where they adjusted quickly to the darkness as he stood, as quietly and swiftly as he could.

The sight that greeted his eyes was one he wished was not of truth. Crouched down next to the Merlin was a stranger; a man who was hissing forbidden, dangerous words into the boy's ear with golden eyes and Arthur felt a combination of horror and confusion stop his heart for a moment.

Once he was finished, the man drew back, reaching out an affectionate hand and gently ruffling the short raven hair that matched the colour of his own scruffy locks. "Take it easy." He muttered quietly as his eyes faded to their natural muted brown colour.

"What are you doing?"

Straightening up, the stranger turned, confused at the sudden, unexpected intrusion. It quickly melted away, a cocky self-assured grin taking its place. "Easy! Don't get your tunic in a twist." Holding up his hands in a form of mock surrender he smirked cheekily. "It's only a simple little sleeping charm to ensure we grown-ups can talk in peace."

No smile graced Arthur's face as he stared into the dark eyes of his would-be attacker, unsure what to do. An unnerving spark resided in them that matched the stupid smile on his face. "Who are you?"

"You can call me Peter." He moved so as to lean on the tree behind the surprisingly still form of Merlin. "And I believe you've been looking for me."

The sorcerer! "You…!"

Peter raised a hand and playfully waved it at him. "Hello."

"You've been selling spells."

He nodded, crossing his arms. "Yes."

"To citizens of Camelot."

The smirk disappeared as he shrugged. "I don't tend to ask. I just," he swept a hand out towards the distant horizon, "go where I'm needed." Arthur unconsciously tightened his grip on the sword tightly held in his right hand and watched as Peter's eyes flicked to his side, his attention no doubt attracted by the sudden movement.

Brown eyes rose to meet blue ones, flashing with a challenge, daring him to try it.

The gaze was held between them for a few minutes, neither allowing the other to intimidate them. Eventually, it was Arthur who tore his eyes away, unable to hold it any longer. There was no way he could just kill this man, he still needed his help; _Merlin _still needed his help.

The prince didn't see the small smile that grew on the man's face as he turned. "There's something you need to understand about me, Arthur." Shoving himself away from the tree, Peter straightened up. "I'm one of those who believes in Magic For The Masses. Giving the chance of Power," he raised his hands into a typical threatening sorcerer pose before stepping forward to point at the Prince, "to the People."

One solitary finger was now pointed directly towards Arthur's chest, hovering two inches away from his heart. Arthur stared at it, aware as he was that it would take just one well-chosen word to strike him dead where he stood.

Following the Prince's eye-line and most likely train of thought, Peter rolled his eyes. "Oy! I'm not here to kill you!" Arthur glanced up, looking the annoyed sorcerer in the eye. The man drew the finger back placing the hand it was attached to on his own chest, glancing at the Prince with a pure look of sincerity. "Hand on my heart."

It would seem that he spoke the truth, for had he wished Arthur dead he could have struck him down a thousand times over already. Still, as his father had said, there was little trust worth putting in the words, or indeed the actions, of a sorcerer. "You were saying?"

Peter sighed but continued regardless. "No doubt you're father will be pleased to hear this, but you don't have a small hoard of hidden magicians within your realm, o great Prince." He bowed mockingly with a stupid flourish. "I only sell my spells to non-magical persons who ask for my help."

Arthur's brow furrowed. "But then how-"

"Uh-uh." The sorcerer wagged his finger before tapping his nose. "Trade secret."

"You are aware that sorcery is a crime in Camelot?"

He turned slightly and leant back against the tree over-dramatically stroking his chin. "And yet people still come to me for help. I wonder why that is…"

Taking a deep breath, Arthur reminded himself that punching this man would do him no good…no matter how much satisfaction he felt he would take from the action. Throwing his sword to the ground, afraid that temptation may prove too much for him, Arthur reached for the folded parchment that he hadn't let off his person since it had been retrieved from that house.

He held it out towards Peter who confidently took the paper in his fingers. "Is this one of your spells?"

Flattening it out, Peter cast a quick eye over the parchment. "Looks like one of mine." Reaching a hand to his chin, he proceeded to read it in greater detail. "Oh yes, I remember, quite a curious concoction." He chuckled lifting the parchment slightly into the air with a smile. "You see, the magic goes into the potion rather than the incantation. That way a servant was able to save a sorcerer without the aid of the magic he never had."

Arthur watched as a shadow passed in front of the man's dark eyes, showing moments later on his face. Since he'd first arrived, the man looked genuinely saddened.

"I recall the young woman I sold it to. She was quite distraught wanted anything that could help her elderly father." With a solemn look he closed his eyes gently shaking his head. "Quite a powerful spell, I tried to warn her against it but she refused to listen." Opening his eyes he turned them to the Prince. "Why do you ask?"

Arthur just held an arm out to the still slumbering form of Merlin at the foot of the tree. "It went a bit wrong."

"Ah…" Peter's eyes widened and he rubbed his neck awkwardly. "Well that certainly explains why you're looking for me."

"You need to reverse it."

There was a light chuckle as the man turned his attention back to the blond prince, a confused smile upon his face. "Pardon?"

"Change him back."

Defiance, challenge and mockery shined at him from those dark eyes as Peter looked the Prince up and down, almost as though looking for something that wasn't immediately obvious.

Taking a deep breath, he turned away gently shaking his head. "No."

"What?"

"I see no reason to." He shrugged nonchalantly, his cocky self-assured grin once again settling in. "I've been watching the pair of you and I fail to see how him being older would make things better."

"But you have to!"

He snorted. "I don't _have _to anything."

"But this isn't natural!" He threw a hand in Merlin's direction but the sorcerer didn't even turn to look.

"Had a change of heart, have we?" With a slight chuckle, Peter met Arthur's confused look with golden eyes.

"It doesn't matter how you look, Merlin." The Prince's breath caught as he felt the chilling touch of the man's magic force his earlier words from his lips. "You're still the same person." The spell withdrew as soon as he'd said the last word and Arthur fell to his knees his chest heaving as he began breathing again.

"How did-?"

"Did you mean that? Or were you just lying to make him feel better?"

Shaking; Arthur was shaking. For so many reasons, he was shaking. Fear was one of the main ones. For himself, for Merlin; for the tangy feel of that man's magic that still lingered in his chest. He couldn't recall ever feeling like that; so at someone's mercy. A warrior with a sharpened blade he could handle; he could fight back and protect himself but against an attack so underhanded and dirty…he was helpless.

There was a glint by his side, the blade of his sword catching what little light there was coming from the dwindling fire. Barely thinking, he reached for it, grabbing at the hilt and jumping to his feet. Running forward, driven by his fear, his anger and his hatred for this man he swung the blade through the air, intending with every fibre of his being to cut the man down where he stood.

There was a loud thunk as the blade embedded itself into the wood, the sorcerer having disappeared at the last moment.

"Careful now." Peter's voice came from behind him and Arthur turned, his rage giving him the strength to tear the sword from the trunk. "Don't do something you'll regret."

The sorcerer no longer looked cocky but he wasn't going to help; he was ruining people's lives and he'd done something to Merlin whom, it would seem, he had believed to be a child. Clearly he had power and he claimed to want to help people, but not them. Not Merlin!

Peter just shook his head with a sigh as Arthur charged at him again, sword raised intent on attacking him. "Fine then." His eyes lit up again just as Arthur took his swing at the man's shoulder and watched as the Prince continued into the follow-through unarmed.

Glancing between his empty hands and the man before him Arthur wasn't sure what he was supposed to do. Glaring up at the sorcerer his eyes flared with the flurry of emotions that swirled in his head.

Peter matched his gaze but his eyes instead held the glimmer of a smile as he reached out and brushed an imaginary hair from the Prince's tunic. "You shouldn't be so eager to hurt me, you know."

"And why's that?"

Taking a step back, he tilted his head slightly to one side. "I'm not evil. I like to think of myself as a reasonable guy." He raised an eyebrow before pointing purposefully at Arthur. "If you can prove to me that being a child is really so terrible for him, I'll put things to right."

"How am I supposed to do that?"

Untroubled, the man shrugged. "Not my problem." He turned his back on Arthur and took a few steps before half-turning back, smiling menacingly at him. "I'll be watching."

And with a flash of gold he was gone.


	8. Downhill From Here

**Disclaimer: **So yeah this show ain't mine, neither are the characters, concepts or trademarks or pretty much anything. Only thing I have any potential claim to is the storyline and even that was inspired by other things so I ain't gonna claim that either.

**A/N:** So yeah, I got no excuses for the two week wait, actually I got a whole heap of them, mainly to do with my flatmates but you don't want to hear them. Just three points before I leave you to it. One: I didn't get many reviews last chapter (last few actually) and I just wanted to point out that reviews let me know if I'm getting it right or wrong so please try and leave one if you can, it really really helps. Two: I've made a page on Facebook so if anybody fancies heading over to facebook[dot]com/lady[dot]harker (the link is on my profile as well) maybe give it a like, say hello it'd be much appreciated. Three: I sent a short preview to the people who left a review for the last chapter as well as on my facebook page and I think it's a practice I'm going to continue, so a sly incentive there to get you to like on facebook and/or review the chapter. All that's left to say is I'm really really sorry, and if you don't understand why yet you will by the time you finish reading. I won't say enjoy because I'm not that cruel. l-h.

**Chapter Eight: Downhill From Here**

On the second day they only passed through two settlements during their enquiries. True they were a fair deal larger than any of the ones they'd been through the previous day with a greater number of people, but no less of failure on their parts.

Even so, Merlin found it easier to ignore the people's incredulity than he had before. The sting of their ignorance was ever-present but the strike, although always close to his heart, was not so hard. He had come to expect the words they hissed and spat at him and as such he was able to pay less heed; although not a great deal.

Arthur had insisted they stop for the night before Merlin began collapsing again and he set about making a fire just to the side of the road as before while Merlin prepared them a short meal; a simple soup again with some meat from a rabbit that Arthur had somehow captured earlier.

It tasted a darn sight better than what Arthur had prepared but the great awkwardness that sat heavily upon the air between them as they once again sat on opposite sides of the fire convinced Merlin that he ought not to mention that; not even as a joke.

They ate in silence, Merlin throwing occasional glances over the flames at the Prince who was not-so-subtly avoiding eating as best he could. It had prompted Merlin to consider when he had last seen the man eat and in all truth he did not believe he had witnessed it since before the whole blasted quest had begun. Not wishing to believe this to be true, he reasoned that he'd been rather out of it the previous evening and it was unlike Arthur to go two entire days without any food.

"Is it alright?"

"Huh?" Arthur glanced up across the flames at him, jogging himself from whatever train of thought had a hold of his mind. As his mind came into focus, he smiled slightly before raising the bowl and nodding his gratitude. "Yes. Thank you."

_Liar…_

Shaking his head as he placed his now empty bowl to one side, Merlin sighed. There was more to it than that, Arthur was distracted; he'd spent the entire day wandering the streets of the towns barely saying a word to anybody. Even now he was confused and distant and there was something, something very extremely important that he wasn't mentioning. It certainly didn't help that the prat wasn't really talking, nor that when he did speak it was mainly to emphasise that the slightly darkening rings under his eyes were not due to lack of sleep thank you very much, and would Merlin please shut up about it before Arthur came over there and knocked him senseless.

Eventually the pair of them settled down into a feigned sleep, neither wholly aware that the other was merely turned from the heat of the still-blazing fire. Merlin's mind was buzzing with a whole flurry of thoughts, troubles and fears, such as the fact that he was becoming more accustomed to his lessened height now. He still fell when the difference took him by great surprise or when he sat up or stood suddenly but not as often as yesterday. He was slowly and wholly begrudgingly learning the limitations of his younger body as well.

Unbeknownst to Arthur he had had to take several rests throughout the day, stopping in small hidey-holes where he could find them and taking time to remind himself why he was doing this. To remind himself that the words he felt tearing into him sometimes were just words of ignorant and well-meaning, if judgemental, Pendragon-fearing people.

Even with all his breakthroughs, he deliberated that it wasn't a good thing that he considered the fact he hadn't cried yet a bonus. His tears the previous night had not been of his choosing. If he'd had any say in the matter those tears would not even passed across his mind as an idea let alone poured down his face and been witnessed by Arthur.

The look the blond had given Merlin at his realisation of the manifestation of fears, confusion and anger that had trickled down the servant's cheeks had made the boy feel distinctly sick. He didn't want anyone's pity, especially Arthur's. All he wanted was to be himself again; greeted by people as he strode through the castle, recognised by familiar faces…taller…

For this was the greatest lesson that Merlin was currently taking from his experience; being short sucked. Being young didn't hold much brilliance either but being short was worse…just.

Eventually Merlin found himself drifting into an uneasy sleep, pierced only by the fact that his magic was gradually beginning to grow restless again. All through the night he was overly aware of the state of his powers but still he slept what he could only assume was more soundly than the Prince, for in the morning he looked no more rested than before, eyes sunken and limbs obviously weary.

Again, Arthur protested against Merlin's attempt to breach the subject merely growling out that he ought to stop bringing it up unless he wanted to spend the rest of the year mucking out the stables once this was over and done with.

But Merlin was no fool, he knew the Prince wasn't eating, wasn't sleeping. He was clearly getting closer to the point where he would be fighting off the urge to collapse. And no matter what he said to himself, what argument he came up with he couldn't help but think that whatever it was had something to do with his current condition.

Needless to say, a large amount of guilt was gathering, weighing down upon his chest by the time they set off for the next town, slower than the previous day.

* * *

><p>It was an hour before Merlin approached Arthur in the first town on the third day.<p>

The boy didn't make eye contact, woefully shaking his head and shifting uncomfortably under the Prince's querying gaze. No one had seen anything. The sorcerer wasn't to be found anywhere, not that it mattered.

Arthur had spent every waking moment going over what 'Peter' had said. Saying that, pretty much every moment was a waking moment, his mind too busy and restless trying to get a grasp on what he could possibly do to prove to the sorcerer that Merlin needed to be returned to his former state.

"Arthur?" The Prince sighed as the quiet voice came from the boy who walked three steps behind him.

It was almost undeniable that this conversation was going to take the same route that every conversation the boy had tried to strike up over the two days. He hadn't told Merlin about the encounter with the sorcerer, but from the way the boy kept asking if he was alright, Arthur wondered how long it would take for him to figure out that something more was going on.

"Merlin, I swear, if this is to do with my current physical condition again I will make you _swallow _that neckerchief."

"No." Merlin chuckled dryly. "I mean, not really. But I've been thinking."

"Rarely a good thing." Luckily, the muttered words went mostly unnoticed as the boy continued.

"Maybe…" Pausing, Merlin took a deep breath. When he spoke again his voice was a lot quieter as though afraid of reprimand. "Maybe we should just go back to Camelot"

Throwing a glance at the boy behind him, Arthur chuckled. "See that's what I like about you, Merlin. You're always able to make jokes."

Merlin's brow furrowed. "I thought that's what annoyed you about me."

"One of many things, Merlin." The quiet utterance of 'prat' just managed to reach his ears and a gentle smile pulled at the edges of Arthur's mouth.

"I'm serious though."

Arthur stopped where he was, his smile disappearing as he turned to look Merlin in the eyes as he too stopped a short way off. "About giving up?"

The boy's look crumpled under the Prince's piercing gaze and his reply was almost lost in the sounds of the surrounding forest as he only just breathed it out. "…yeah."

This hushed response hung in the air, almost tangible, it's cold and cloying tendrils threatening to grasp at Arthur's resolve and drag him down into dark swirling realms of despair that he was already fighting not to throw himself into over his own worry.

"You can go back if you want." He turned and began walking again, tearing himself away from that silence and striding free of its influence. "But I'm not giving up."

"Could've fooled me." The words were quiet but determined and he had barely taken two steps before he was compelled to turn and face this accusation.

"And what exactly is _that _supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, it's just…" Merlin groaned and ran a hand through his hair, his face scrunched in minor anger at his having been heard. "Have you considered that maybe…" Arthur prayed that the words that next passed his lips weren't the ones he thought they'd be. "Maybe I'm better off like this…"

* * *

><p>Merlin waited, watching intently for any sign of contemplation from the Prince but there was none.<p>

"Are you saying you want to _stay_ like this?"

"What? No!" Merlin took a tentative step forward knowing that he couldn't beat around the bush any longer, not if he wished to convince Arthur of his argument. "I just don't-!" Swallowing his fear he coughed, noticing for the first time just how much taller Arthur actually looked from down at his level. Taking a deep breath he tried, with limited success to calm his voice before he spoke again. "I'm not sure this is something worth dying over."

"Dying ove-?" Arthur's confused look quickly dissipated as he grasped Merlin's meaning and let out what could only be described as an exasperated grunt before turning his back and continuing on. "How many times, Merlin? I'm _fine_!"

Merlin rushed, nearly tripping over his feet, to catch up with the man who was a lot quicker than he looked. "I may look like a child." He was panting as he eventually caught up to Arthur, maintaining the same distance as before. "But I still know when you're lying."

"I'm not lying."

Merlin reached out, throwing a hand towards the Prince's back. "Lying again."

Arthur swung round a mild look of annoyance on his face and no doubt a clever quip on the tip of his tongue but they both disappeared as the Prince threw aside his satchel and rushed forward, hands grabbing at Merlin's shoulders before harshly throwing the boy to the side.

Merlin's right shoulder smashed into the dry cracked ground and the contact jarred through his entire body, shaking him and stirring his magic from its previous quiet position and he groaned as it roared within him. Though, as he looked up his anger quickly dissolved at the sight that greeted his eyes.

Arthur was stood where Merlin had been only moments before; where he'd be now if the blond hadn't forcibly thrown him aside. Merlin's interest, although caught slightly by the sudden shove the Prince had forced upon him, was pretty much entirely caught on the man whose face was only a few inches away from Arthur's.

The boy's breath hitched as he saw the instantly recognisable black leather outfit, the maddened glint in those haunting, angered eyes and the sickeningly familiar face that was throwing pure malice towards Arthur.

It was the man who had attacked Merlin in the forest and Merlin froze as that realisation truly sank in.

The Prince's arms were placed firmly on the man's shoulders, holding him in place and Merlin watched fearfully as Arthur took a deep shaky breath through his nose. Pushing back slightly, the Prince drew back his hand that was slowly curling into a fist and threw it with great force at the man before him.

Merlin flinched as the smack echoed around them when Arthur's punch landed. The attacker pulled back and Arthur cried out, both of them staggering back a few steps where the man fell to the floor in a minor heap, groaning. Arthur fell to one knee, clearly struggling to keep his left side as straight as possible while clutching at it with his hands.

"Arthur?"

Confusion quickly disappeared as Merlin began to see the blood slowly trickling through the Prince's fingers. He was leaning his head back, his face screwed up in pain before nearly doubling over and instantly Merlin's legs were moving, his own satchel abandoned, and the servant was at his master's side, a gentle hand on the Prince's chest pushing him back up to ensure the wound wouldn't get worse.

Arthur let out a short, pained groan.

"No." Merlin realised his hands were shaking as he reached down to Arthur's blood-covered fingers; his whole body was shivering with panic as he worriedly tried to recall anything Gaius had taught him that could help. "No. No. Arthur, no!"

The attacker forgotten, Merlin's mind was racing, trying to think what he could do, anything he could do, but he was drawing a blank and he couldn't seem to move his thoughts beyond the rapidly-growing amount of blood seeping around Arthur's fingers.

"Merlin." He tore his gaze from the wound lifting it to Arthur's face, ignoring the large amount of sweat that was quickly pasting his hair to his forehead.

"Arthur, it's- it's going to be okay." It wasn't. It really wasn't. Merlin was still shaking when, his breathing shallow and rugged, Arthur opened his eyes.

"Merlin." The Prince turned his pain-filled gaze on the boy, looking him directly in the eyes as he spoke. "Run."

Still clutching at his side, Arthur reached across with his free arm and feebly attempted to push the boy in the direction they'd originally been travelling. Merlin didn't shift though, his struggle not that difficult as there was little strength in the shove and the boy's attention fell to the wound again.

The flow of blood was slowing but the amount currently staining his friend's fingers was undeniably bad. Unintentionally finding himself staring at the hand, Merlin couldn't help but notice that the hand cradling it was still and calm, firmly held against the Prince's side while he could clearly feel the one on his shoulder trembling, if only slightly.

Then he noticed something was missing from Arthur's left side. Something he knew the Prince wouldn't leave behind and truthfully probably needed around about now.

"Where's your sword?" A weapon, something weighty and good for both offence and defence would never leave his side if he could help it.

Arthur threw a pained glance down at Merlin before quickly turning away and avoiding eye contact. "Lost it."

"What?"

"Merlin!" Arthur's voice was stern and pained, clearly as close to ordering as he was able to get in his current state. He took in another sharp breath. "Don't be an idiot. Run!"

"I'm not going anywhere." Merlin's voice shook more than he had probably intended to allow it but he knew that there were more pressing matters than keeping face right now. Arthur's wound for example, and the homicidal man laid out on the floor a short way away.

The boy didn't turn to look at him, sure as he was that were the man conscious there would currently be more noise and violence aimed towards them. Surely it didn't matter if he was merely momentarily stunned or knocked unconscious, without a weapon they were sitting ducks. The only real option was to get out of there and quickly.

Merlin looped an arm under Arthur's closest shoulder reaching as far around the Prince's back as his suddenly-too-short limbs would allow. Then with what little strength he could muster in his body, he heaved upwards dragging a reluctant Prince to his feet.

"Merlin. No." It was barely a groan and he didn't feel Arthur pull away from his grip although he failed to see that entirely as a good thing, especially as the Prince seemed to be having trouble raising his head.

Merlin jogged his shoulder to try and rouse a response from his friend but Arthur's head remained down-turned. Trying not to dwell on this lack of movement, Merlin quickly realised that even if he was to stand on tiptoes, Arthur would still be hunched over and he didn't fancy testing whether or not the Prince could stand upright unaided right now. Still he drew himself as tall as he could and pulled at Arthur's chest, trying not to brush the hand still clasped to his side.

"Come on." His voice was light and filled with shaky encouragement that didn't hide his fear when a muffled groaning immediately drew his attention. Turning, for the first time, to the figure on the floor a short way before them Merlin felt his heart stop momentarily.

Arthur must have knocked the man out as he was only now pushing himself up, paying the two of them little attention as he wearily looked around. It was at that moment Merlin's eye was caught by something glinting on the floor a short way from where the man had laid. Small, simple in design and the blade coated with glittering red blood, it had to be the cause of Arthur's pain and been unintentionally discarded when the man had fallen back after Arthur's strike.

"Arthur." Hissing his warning in a low voice elicited no response from the Prince and Merlin tried and failed to pull him to leave again. "Please Arthur, come on." Turning his attention to his friend once more he realised how heavily Arthur seemed to be avoiding leaning on him.

When he looked back to the attacker, the man was stood, brushing himself off, while the majority of his attention was held by something obviously important in his fingers.

Clasped in the man's hand was a partially folded, heavily-creased piece of paper. From here even Merlin could clearly see the black scrawl that the man's eyes seemed to take in with a mixture of intrigue and confusion.

"No!" Merlin's gaze snapped back to Arthur whose head was raised just enough for him to be able to glare through his sweat-laden blond hair at the man, his eyes wide with panic. _Now_? He decides to move _now_? "Don't!" Taking a forceful step forward, the Prince threw a hand out in warning. Merlin was pulled forward and then down as the blond fell to his knees, probably a position forced upon him by his wound.

"Arthur!"

A strained cry erupted from Arthur's lips as he hastily tore away the hand cradling his side while swinging round the one which had been outstretched and quickly raised them, shaking, to the side of Merlin's head.

"Aetatis retro? Really?"

As the man before them spoke those words, Merlin felt Arthur's trembling hands clamp tightly over his ears just about blocking out the sounds of the forest. Even so, it was too late; he'd heard those words, those two horrible words; the nasty horrible terrible words and almost instantly the raven-haired boy felt his entire body start to shake as all his muscles involuntarily tensed up.

"Merlin?" Arthur's voice barely pierced through the rapidly growing fog and haze that was descending over his mind and Merlin was struggling not to panic, carefully watching his friend hoping to soothe his obviously too fast heartbeat. Breathing wasn't easy anymore either, feeling the exact moment his chest tightened he fought the overbearing instinct to start coughing, knowing that would only make him feel worse.

Sudden, severe, unyielding, throbbing pain seared mercilessly across Merlin's back and his stomach rolled rebelliously and he could only just stop his eyes from closing as his back instinctively arched away in a futile attempt to escape the pain.

In response, his magic swelled and roared within him, desperate, angered, wanting nothing more than to burst forth and stop the pain in its tracks, to heal him just as it had before and he wished he could allow it; really he did. The sweeping relief was a distant, disappearing memory and he wanted nothing more than to let it consume him and carry him into liberating bliss, but there was those shaking hands still clamped over his ears reminding him that Arthur was still there. Right beside him, trying to help, trying to protect him.

_Failing…_

Merlin's head was pounding as that small voice rose unbidden from the throng of mess and pain that was beginning to blur his vision. Dismissing the stupid, ignorant and unnecessary thoughts this stupid little voice brought forth, the boy noticed Arthur's mouth moving but as before, he heard none of the words.

Panicking, he groggily reached up, fingers curling round the Prince's wrists desperately clinging to them as his eyes were finally drawn shut. Pain sparked across his back once more and as he tried to uselessly arch away from the overpowering sensation again, his legs forwent their job of holding him up and as he felt the Prince's wrist disappearing from his hold, he came to realise that the sensation of falling was no kinder on his stomach than standing had been.

* * *

><p>It was as though something had become disconnected somewhere between what Arthur saw and what he felt.<p>

He saw the moment that the blade which had been heading for Merlin's back pierced his flesh but, as he braced himself against the man's shoulders, it took a few moments of feeling strangely numb before the sharp, unforgiving pain exploded in his side.

The punch had been instinctual, fuelled by the rush of adrenaline the pain had demanded of his body, yet it was a move he regretted almost immediately when the blade was dragged across his abdomen as the man lurched backwards.

Staggering away himself, his left leg buckled and he fell to one knee, clutching his hands to the gathering pool of blood at his side. As he watched the man collapse and the blade skitter away from his fingers, Arthur tensed as he felt shock try and force the shakes upon him.

Droplets began to form on the undersides of his fingers before falling and Arthur drew himself up, scrunching his eyes against the pain, the panic and the trembling he was struggling to keep under control. A sudden jolt beneath his hand forced him forward while a sudden, unexpected hand on his chest gently pushed him back up.

Reluctantly Arthur allowed a groan to rise in his throat, cutting it off before it alerted his thoughts to the true seriousness of the situation.

Merlin's panicked mumbling revealed that the hand on his chest belonged to the boy which somewhat settled Arthur's stomach but knowing who it was he'd just sent reeling, his chest tightened.

"Merlin."

"Arthur, it's- it's going to be okay." Thankful that his own voice had sounded stronger than he currently felt, Arthur disregarded Merlin's shaky attempt to reassure him.

Reluctantly peeling open his eyes, he found his sight blurred but cared little for it. "Merlin." Arthur fought the tightness in his chest urging him to cough as he turned to the boy at his left side and, with some difficulty, looked him in the eyes. "Run."

The man on the floor wanted Merlin, obviously. Although the reasoning escaped him, and frankly didn't really matter either way, this man wanted the boy in one state or another and Merlin needed to get out of there now.

Of course the idiot couldn't do as he was told, his usual lack of self-preservation shining true, even when Arthur tried to shove him away he didn't budge an inch and unfortunately the hand on Merlin's shoulder lightly shook and betrayed the turmoil raging within him.

"Where's you sword?"

Glancing down to where Merlin had been looking, he was reminded that his sword was still absent after the other night. It was probably some sort of sick joke on Peter's part but he couldn't help but think he might actually need it.

Unable to face Merlin as he spoke Arthur turned away from his face. There wasn't really time to explain it had been magicked away by the sorcerer they were supposedly looking for. "Lost it."

"What?"

Arthur lowered his head again as the throbbing at his side became almost rhythmic; constant and painful, he was struggling to think through it and screwed up his eyes again.

"Merlin!" A jolt of pain stopped him just short of shouting and his breath hitched as he gasped in a lungful of air. As it numbed, he continued in a lower, strained voice. "Don't be an idiot. Run!"

"I'm not going anywhere." Merlin sounded shaken but there was an annoying resolution in his words that sounded stupidly familiar. The fingers of Merlin's hand that was still placed in the centre of Arthur's chest splayed out as an arm reached across his back. Gently, reluctantly, he was pulled to his feet.

"Merlin. No." Yet his protest went unheeded and his brain's orders to pull away from the hold never seemed to reach his limbs.

Fatigue was pressing against the back of his mind and trying to pull him to his knees again but just above where his left hand was still held tightly to his side he felt Merlin's shoulder begin to dig in. Afraid of putting too much of his own weight on the boy, he tried to straighten himself up but it stretched the torn flesh beneath his fingers and he felt fresh droplets of blood trickle between them.

The tug of Merlin trying to lead him away was easily resisted while Merlin's worried words were ignored in favour of a far more important shifting he could hear on the ground before him. The boy beside him stilled and Arthur knew he had to look up, had to see what was happening…even if there was probably little he could do about this.

With pained effort, Arthur slowly raised his head and gently opened his eyes, trying and failing to swallow the throbbing headache that was taking root. Peering through his eyelashes at blurred images, moments dragged as he waited for his eyes to focus. When they did and he saw the man stood before them with an all-too familiar piece of paper clasped between his fingers which he gazed at with curiosity, his right hand instinctively reached for his belt.

No…

That was the spell.

The attacker had the spell in his hands.

Panicking, Arthur flexed the fingers at his belt, realising that the man must have grabbed it from him when he'd got in the way.

"No!" From the greedy and disbelieving look that was rooted in the man's eyes it was obvious that the words on the page made no sense to him, just as they had when Arthur had first seen them, and he was dreading the moment he could almost feel coming. "Don't!" Reaching out his right arm in warning, Arthur stepped forward not thinking of the pain until it tore through him, once again bringing him to his knees.

"Arthur!"

Arthur's cry drowned Merlin's shout as he forced his left hand away from the gash at his abdomen. That man was going to read those words and Merlin mustn't hear them. He mustn't! Memories of Merlin writhing on Gaius' cot forced themselves to the front of his mind as he reached across, blood still dripping from his left hand, to cover his friend's ears.

"Aetatis retro? Really?"

A shiver ran through Arthur as he heard those words and there were a few hideous moments when he wasn't sure what was going on…but then he felt Merlin tense under his hands.

"Merlin?" His own eyes were threatening to close as he tried to still his trembling hands, not having moved them from the side of the boy's head and could only watch as Merlin's back arched. "Merlin…" It felt as though his heart had stopped as he realised… "Oh no… No…"

The boy's thin fingers curled around Arthur's wrists as his eyelids fluttered, momentarily masking the pained look they carried and a few moments later, as Merlin began to fall to the floor, the Prince was reaching out to catch his friend before he hit it.

"What's wrong with him?"

Arthur was holding Merlin up, his right arm across the boy's chest, his left hand having returned to his side as the pain burning through him was easier to ignore that way. He didn't turn to the man who had addressed him, instead trying to find a way to draw the writhing boy closer to himself, but every time he tried his side shrieked in complaint and eventually had to settle for gently laying him down.

Breathing heavy, Arthur tried to block out the whimpers and groans Merlin was making, attempted to ignore the shifting and pained look that adorned the youth's face and focused on not screaming as he stood up.

Groaning, he turned to the man who was stood bewildered before him; the man who had stabbed him, the man who had said _those_ words and stood there ignorant of how much Arthur longed to be able to draw his sword and run this man through.

A smug, if somewhat puzzled look sat on his face as he stared at the Prince.

His breathing shaky Arthur drew himself up as tall as he could. "What is your business?"

The man just laughed, cold and merciless, echoing around the trees and rattling inside Arthur's fogged mind. He seemed to consider his answer before throwing an unhindered glance at the boy beside Arthur's feet. "The boy."

In his peripheral vision he saw Merlin shifting beside him but pushed his concern to the back of his mind as he shook his head. "No."

The man took a few steps forward, his smug grin eating away at the already minimal patience and tolerance the Prince held for him. "I don't think you realise just how valuable he is."

Arthur didn't lower his gaze as the man continued his approach. "I said no."

A low throaty chuckle rumbled in the man's chest as he stopped barely a metre away. "Oh you silly little Prince."

Pain exploded as an unexpected fist smashed into Arthur's side, sending paralysing tendrils shooting up and down his entire body. Bent double and his vision fast turning white, Arthur tensed as he felt himself dragged upwards by the front of his tunic. The sudden movement forced his hand from his side and a cry was torn from his chest as the man all but dragged him until they were stood a fair distance away from where Merlin laid.

Warm, stinking breath was heavy against the Prince's ear as the man leant forward and harshly whispered to him. "I wasn't asking."

A powerful, clenched fist smashed into his chest and an almighty crack split the still air around them. Arthur took in a sudden gasping breath that didn't hold, his lungs instantly protesting and threatening to launch him into a coughing fit. Taking another breath, he hoped it would stop the pain radiating around his chest…but it didn't. It took another few, pained, shaky, restricted breaths before he realised that the crack had been one, maybe two of his own ribs breaking at the pressure.

Spots of his vision began to return and all he could see was that sickening face. Arthur's breathing kept catching but that man, that face, was enough to encourage his hand as it curled into a fist and he slowly raised it, planning to land another smack on his attacker but before he had the chance, he was forcibly drawn closer before being literally thrown with great force to the floor.

With every ounce of his being, Arthur wished there was someway he could have prevented the scream that burst from him but with all the pain that spiked through his tired, aching limbs at the force of impact, he doubted if there was any power in the five kingdoms that could have held it back.

"I'll be taking the boy now."

He needed to get up, he needed to help Merlin but his body wasn't responding to anything he wanted it to do. His broken rib protesting at every shaky, ragged breath, his head pounding and clouding over as he lay there and the rhythmic throbbing in his abdomen as it began to bleed again.

Groaning, Arthur rolled onto his right side, knowing that the other direction would be idiotic, with every intention to push himself to his feet but he remained still, not even able to open his now closed eyes, held shut by the ever-growing sense of fatigue that was slowly beginning to consume his entirety.

"Sleep well, your majesty."

Heavy, purposeful footsteps moved away and Arthur's fogged and slowing mind turned to other fights he'd fought. He had been in worse fights before, far worse, and somehow he'd always walked away, a few bruises and mildly wounded pride perhaps but always he'd had a chance to get to his feet. Except each of those times he had been involved in a fair and often honourable fight, wielding a weapon and coated in mail and armour and able to make a stand.

As the sounds around him began to fade, Arthur slowly fell further into the darkness forced upon him by his injured and exhausted body. Awareness slowly dripping away, the Prince's final thoughts were drawn over the treetops and through the town until they were returned to the castle, his home, back in Camelot. To his father, his friends, his people and finally they came to rest on his manservant, Merlin. Not the boy he'd spent the last few days with but as the man he remembered; fully grown, annoying, incompetent, lazy, loyal, ever-present and for a few short moments the Prince realised that in not getting up, in surrendering to his pain and letting the attacker walk away, he had failed this man, this friend who had always stood by his side.

With that disparaging thought stuck firmly in his head, Arthur at last drifted away, knowing full well that he wasn't likely to wake up again.


	9. Sins of the Fathers

**Disclaimer:** Despite the pride I feel for my clever plot (big-head alert) I do not write for, contribute to or claim ownership of the awesome series that inspired this story (nothing more). It all belongs to them Julian fellows.

**A/N:** I know, I know but at least it's not two weeks like last time. Again, longer than my usual updates so hopefully that appeases you somewhat. Most of this chapter has been stewing in my head for the last three/four weeks and writing them has taken so long because they had to be just right otherwise it would be catastrophic and I would hate myself. Thanks to those who reviewed and especially those who gave feedback to the preview, it was both encouraging and helpful. The opening part may be familiar to those who saw the preview but try not to skip it as I've added bits and changed others so you might miss something. Again, I will send a preview to all who review the chapter and also post it on facebook[dot]com/lady[dot]harker when I have it ready. I can't wait to see what you lot make of this one :)

**Chapter Nine: Sins of the Fathers**

Merlin was in a bad way.

A great hollowing emptiness sat heavily upon his chest as his deadened, blue eyes stared into nothingness; open and turned to the moss covered ground but seeing nothing of the floor beside him. Not that there was that much to see as night had long since fallen and the boy was turned away from the pitiful fire his captor had set up, the flames barely throwing out enough heat to even reach across his back.

His entire body shivered with a chill that the feeble fire and his baggy clothes couldn't fight off, but he couldn't help but feel grateful for the slight numbing sensation it allowed to take over most of his body; it matched how he felt inside.

Laid on his left side with his hands tied before him, he was absent-mindedly running a thumb along the sore, itchy skin of his wrist beneath the rope that bound them together. It was partly to soothe the slight bruise that was blossoming there after having spent the day being carried by his captor like a sack of potatoes, but mainly it was to try and distract himself from the unrelenting mess within his head.

There was no need to look down to his feet, he could tell from the lack of feeling in them that a similar rope held them in place, lest he make plans to run away. Only there were no plans, no thoughts or expectations of escape. He wasn't going anywhere.

Flashes of Arthur with his fingers covered in shiny, glittering ruby-coloured blood, his own blood, kept throwing themselves into Merlin's thoughts. Hand outstretched, feebly trying to push Merlin away from danger; the Prince's face as he held his hands to Merlin's ears; each memory, no matter how fogged and hazy burst forth, forcing silent and unwanted yet unrestrained tears to fall leaving near-invisible tracks trailing across his cheeks.

His head raged, screaming bloody murder, aided by the continuous swelling and spiking of his magic which bubbled fiercely under his skin, thrashing around like a wounded animal clearly distraught at not having been able to save him from the spell that still coursed through his veins. Merlin blinked slowly, allowing his magic to shift within him unbidden, reflecting the fluctuations of his own heartbeat. He greatly welcomed the distracting motions and waves of dizziness it brought with a broken heart.

Arthur was dead...

Or at least that was what the man who had attacked, captured and bound the boy seemed to think, having spent most of the evening recounting the fight that had happened between them while Merlin had been out of it, in great detail; all the while, wearing a smug look of achievement that ate away at the boy's belief that Arthur had to have survived.

As he had listened to that tale with a disbelieving ear, Merlin had sworn to whatever power was listening that if he were ever given the chance, he would not hesitate to tear this man apart simply for his unwavering lack of remorse and harrowing unholy laugh. He didn't dare think what he might do if it turned out Arthur was actually dead...

Lightly shaking his head, trying to rid it of such thoughts, Merlin reminded himself that Arthur _couldn__'__t_ be dead. He just couldn't. There was no two ways about it; Arthur _had_ to be alive. Yet even repeating that thought over and over in his mind, it did nothing to ease the emptiness that was slowly, oh-so-slowly consuming him.

Merlin tilted his head so he wasn't able to see his bound hands anymore before tightly closing his eyes. God! Holding back the sob that had sneakily welled-up in his chest was so painful but he didn't want to give that sick man the satisfaction of his cry. The tears wouldn't be there either if it wasn't for the fact that he simply couldn't stop them as they fell. Better that they be slow and silent if they had to be at all.

* * *

><p>A gentle, heart lifting twittering and chirping drifted down from a nearby branch, rising and falling and forming a disjointed but reassuring little tune. It was accompanied by a gentle rustling of leaves, caused by a passing wind that caused goosebumps to run along the entire length of his body.<p>

Both familiar yet strange, a nearby hushed voice spoke foreign words that he did not understand but that somehow soothed the aching that ran through his entire being. It wasn't until he felt a pressure removed from his side that he realised someone had been holding their hand there. As soon as the final finger was withdrawn severe pain, sharp and excruciating, shot through him, his arms tensing and his back arching.

"Whoa!" A forceful hand pressed gently on the centre of his chest attempting to return him to the floor. "What on earth?"

More foreign words were said and Arthur felt the fierce pain slowly fade until it was little more than a distracting ache. Moving his head around, Arthur groggily opened his eyes, forcing them to focus as he tried to see who was knelt beside him.

"Take it easy."

Blinking a few more times, Arthur watched as the blurred outlines slowly became sharper forming a clearer image of someone he wasn't expecting to see. "Peter?"

The familiar face belonged to the sorcerer who had planted him in this situation to begin. He didn't respond directly, instead placing a hand on the Prince's arm and holding it in place, worried the idiot might try and get up. "I wasn't expecting you to wake up."

Gazing round gave Arthur no better understanding of what was going on, the sun streaming through the trees telling him it was daytime, but otherwise there was nothing. Of course there was really only one thing that was currently stuck in his mind. "Merlin…"

"Taken."

"Where?"

"I don't know." Peter's eyes fell away, unable to meet Arthur's gaze as he glared at the sorcerer. Taking a deep breath he moved his arm, the one Peter wasn't trying to restrain and tried to push himself to his feet. "Hey what are you doing?"

"I need to go after them."

The hand returned to his chest and Arthur was forced down with a strength he wouldn't have expected a slight man such as Peter to possess. "You need to rest is what you need to do."

"Peter-"

"Don't you 'Peter' me. You start moving about you're only going to make yourself worse."

With difficulty, Arthur grabbed Peter's hand on his chest and threw it aside, sitting up again. "I'll live."

"Arthur!" The cry caught the Prince's attention who turned to the man sat beside him. Peter looked almost angry with him as he spoke. "That man nearly killed you. If you go after him you'll be helping him finish the job."

"So what? I just leave him?"

"You will _die_, Arthur!" Peter's voice was becoming more urgent as Arthur managed to push himself to his feet, a pained groan escaping his lips as the motion pulled at his front. "Do you _not_ realise that? Are you _really_ so stupid?"

The Prince shook his head, ignoring the twinge and glancing around, he tried to figure out which way would be the one to walk. "I have to save him."

"_Why_?" the sorcerer didn't flinch as Arthur snapped to look at him, an angered look on his face. "Why do you have to save him? Why do you think-?" Peter stopped, taking a deep, calming breath before continuing in a more restrained voice. "Why are you convinced that this boy, this _servant_ is worth your time?"

"Why do _you_ think he isn't?"

"I just don't understand why you're so willing to march to your more-than-certain death trying to help him."

Arthur paused, for a moment unsure why it was he was so desperate to save his manservant. Barely a second and he'd already thought of several reasons. Merlin was _his_ servant; he was only a child at the moment; _no_ _one_ deserved to be abandoned the way Peter was suggesting; Merlin was only out here because of Arthur's insistence to find a remedy. Then there was the main reason.

"If it were me, he'd do the same."

"_Really_? He'd willingly try to get himself killed going on an obviously suicidal quest that would only end in both your deaths?"

Arthur turned away from him, unwilling to look him in the eye as he tried to twist one of the boy's greatest qualities and wield it against him. There was going to be no convincing this man was there? Not that the Prince could hope to make him understand, there was just something about Merlin that you could never truly get if you'd never met the idiot.

"How long have I been unconscious?"

Peter looked reluctant to tell him, giving in only when he could see that Arthur wasn't actually trying to pick a fight again. "About a day."

A day…

So this sun that threw light across the land was that of a _new_ _day_. Merlin had been with that sick man for near enough a _whole_ _day_ and that was without considering the worst meaning of this new day. Day three was gone, as, it would seem, was most of day four. That made tomorrow day five which meant…

"I have to go after him."

"Arthur!"

Arthur strode with less confidence than he would care, until he was stood toe to toe with Peter, glaring in his eyes and pointing with one finger in a random direction away from them. "At dawn tomorrow, my father will send the knights to return me to Camelot. I don't have time to mess around."

Instead of the reaction Arthur had been expecting, Peter's face lit up. "That's brilliant! You rest, await the knights, go home and _forget_ _about_ _the_ _boy_."

"Forget?" Arthur threw off the hand the sorcerer was trying to throw around him. "That's your suggestion? I _forget_!"

"Arthur-" Again, his attempt to calm the Prince was met with anger as he hit Peter's arms away.

"I don't expect you to understand, Peter." Arthur resisted the urge to just strike the man, settling instead for just short of spitting in his face. "I know sorcerers have no true sense of loyalty."

The silence that pervaded the air at that statement was heavy with awkwardness but Arthur didn't regret nor apologise for his words, even as he saw the look on Peter's face settle into one of great offence. "I knew your father was an ignorant boar when it came to sorcery but I was hoping to believe better of you."

"How dare you speak of my father that way."

Distrust filled the sorcerer's features as he shook his head. "You truly are your father's son. I'm surprised you didn't just kill the boy as soon as you saw he was influenced by magic."

"Merlin's situation was not of his choosing."

"And yet, you condemn _me_ for having magic."

"It's _your_ magic that caused this trouble."

"I won't deny, I played some part," Peter raised his hand in admission of his acts, "but I have spent hours bringing your beaten behind back from the brink of death."

Arthur frowned, his voice becoming quiet. "What?"

The shouting that the two of them had taken to was suddenly absent as Arthur looked down at his front. The hem of his shirt had been torn away to allow easy access to the cut that traced along his abdomen just beneath his navel. Though the wound was healed for the most part, there was a small trickle of blood from where the Prince's angered movements had slightly torn it open again. At this sight, some of the more gruesome memories relating to his wounds pushed through to the front of his mind.

"Oh…"

Whereas before the wound was content to merely throb, quite painful but on the whole at the back of his mind, the rush of memories and the sudden drawing of attention to it caused a sudden spike of pain to tear through Arthur's torso. Taking in a sharp breath that caught as his chest suddenly tightened, the young man began to fall to his knees, vision already blurring.

In an instant, Peter had rushed forward and caught Arthur underneath his arms. Slowly, as he lowered the Prince to the floor, he shifted the blond around making it easier to lower him into a sitting position. Feeling the lack of tension in Arthur's back as he remained limp, Peter continued to lower the man until he was laid out on the floor, a position he could tell the Prince did not like yet he did not protest, obviously comforted by the support the floor gave him. "Easy now."

Closing his eyes, Arthur's left hand reached to where he remembered the knife having pierced his flesh, tracing along the wound which was all but healed now. Withdrawing his hand, he could feel the slight trickle of blood that rested on his fingers. Allowing the hand to fall to his side, Arthur refused to look at it. Seeing his blood, reminding himself of those moments; neither were instances he cared to dwell on too long. "How…?"

"Healing magic isn't exactly my forté but I've done my best." Magic? A shiver ran through him at the thought of what exactly Peter was saying. Still, with the phantom feeling of the abdominal lesion beneath his fingers and the haunting memory of so much blood dripping from them, he greatly feared that its use may have been more than a necessity.

Tiring of his horizontal position, Arthur sat up with some difficulty while Peter placed a forceful hand on the Prince's shoulder in an attempt to ensure he wouldn't try to stand again. "You need to relax, for the moment at least." Reluctantly, Arthur conceded, not entirely sure that his legs would be able to support him should he get to them again anyway. Instead he watched as Peter eyed him warily, able to guess what the Prince was thinking. "You know, Arthur, magic's no more evil than…a table."

"…A table?"

"Turn it on its side you can hide behind it, use it like a shield, protect you and the people you love. Or if you want you can tear a leg off and bash someone round the head with it."

Arthur simply raised an eyebrow. "…A table."

Dramatically rolling his eyes, Peter groaned. "Alright, the analogy is flawed but my point stands! Magic isn't evil, it's the way it's used that makes it one way or another."

Arthur only held Peter's gaze for a moment before turning away, not sure whether he could believe this man or not. "I have to save Merlin."

"Yeah, I think you said that already." The sorcerer raised a hand to his eyes, sighing with a soft smile as he rubbed at them. "I have a confession to make, Arthur. I lied to you. It's not that I won't help Merlin." He lowered his gaze, gut twisting at the thought of what he was about to confess. "It's that I can't." Arthur stared at him in confusion, a look that he caught for but a moment before looking away again. "Don't look at me, look at your father."

"What does my father have to do with this?"

"He has _everything_ to do with this, Arthur. Both my parents are sorcerers." There was a sad smile on his lips as he corrected himself. "_Were_ sorcerers." Shifting about, he settled so that he was sat next to Arthur, a short distance between them but close enough that he could support Arthur if he needed to. "My mother was executed for using healing enchantments. My father wasn't suspected of a thing… He was scared of losing me the same way so the second I started showing an…ability, he used his powers to bind mine so I could never draw attention to myself." Arthur watched as the man allowed a sigh to lift and leave his chest. "I can do simple charms, small enchantments but anything bigger than that I just…" He bit his lip. "I physically can't."

Peter noticed the slight twitch as Arthur resisted the urge to clutch a hand to his side. "Then how did you…?"

"Like I said, healing magic isn't my forté." A short silence, less tense than previous ones stretched between them and Arthur was now able to see the tired look that weighed on his face as well as a distant fatigue lying heavy in his eyes. "My point is, even if you save Merlin, I can't change him back." He raised his gaze, looking Arthur straight in the eye, determined to show his sincerity in the words he spoke, fearing the reaction they would bring from the blond man. "I can't help him, Arthur. And you can't take him back to Camelot the way he is. I know you don't want to hear this but maybe…" He sighed as Arthur turned away. "Maybe you should just let him go."

The Prince closed his eyes, wishing he could unhear those words. Logic told him Peter had a point, that letting go was the sensible, reasonable course of action but he didn't want to listen to it. Instead he turned his gaze to his knees.

"One day, I will be King. If I gave up now… If I let him go… If I didn't even _try_… When that day came I would swear an oath to protect my people, knowing my words to be nothing but a treacherous lie. Knowing that I was only able to rule the land because I had failed Merlin." He raised his gaze, his eyes distant but burning with a fierce anger that was directed inwards for something he hadn't even entertained the thought of doing yet. "Because of my own cowardice."

"No one would know." Peter spoke in a hushed voice.

"I would."

"…Would it matter?"

Arthur turned to the man beside him, the anger subsiding into pure, unadulterated determination. "It would be enough"

A look of contemplation took over Peter's features and Arthur, thinking the conversation over lowered his gaze and placed a hand squarely on the floor to push himself to his feet again. "Dear Lord, Arthur! Stay still!" A tight grip pulled him back to the floor where Peter glared at him before giving a resigned sigh. "You're _absolutely_ resolved to help him?"

"Yes."

He nodded in recognition. "Nothing I can say will sway your decision?"

"Not a word."

Sighing, he took his hand from Arthur's arm and ran it through his scruffy hair, the action making him look a great deal younger. "Well, if you insist on getting yourself killed over the boy, I suppose I could lend a hand."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "I thought you couldn't do anything with your magic."

"I may not be able to help Merlin," Peter placed an assertive hand on the Prince's shoulder, promise and determination flashing in his eyes as he did so, "but I might be able to help you."

* * *

><p>Night had fallen again, allowing the cold, sharp air to descend and wrap itself around Merlin once more. Except the numbing feeling was not able to reach him as it had before, fought off by the great warming throb of the various injuries his captor had inflicted on him.<p>

"I know what you are." He'd towered over a shivering Merlin that morning, a sickening smile twisting his features as he leered at the young boy beneath him. "Knocking me over. Changing yourself." He'd chuckled darkly before leaning right down to hiss in his ear. "You're a sorcerer."

Merlin was no fool, he may be younger, even more so now, but he knew where they were headed; knew exactly what awaited him at the end of this road. Uther's hatred of magic and those who attempted to use it for whatever end was known in the farthest reaches of most kingdoms; you didn't need to have half a brain to know that bountiful rewards awaited those who revealed the sneaky blaggards.

That was why Merlin had spent the day alternating between being carried and being beaten. The injuries were merely insurance, he'd been assured as powerful punches were smashed into his small, fragile body, a way of ensuring his captor's prize catch didn't try anything magical or otherwise before they reached their destination. Beginning small, a few bruised ribs and a black eye, the man had quickly discovered that hearing the small boy whimper and cry while feebly trying to raise his bound hands in a pitiful defence was enjoyable.

Inevitably, the punches and kicks became harder, fiercer, more frequent, every time they stopped for more than two minutes, easing up only when a horrendous crack snapped through the air and Merlin struggled to hold back his tears as pain exploded in his left forearm. Realising that the crack had been a bone breaking, Merlin's captor had decided that continuing as he had would probably end up killing his little goldmine before its time. That was when he'd announced they were done travelling for the day and Merlin had remained unmoving on the ground where the monster left him.

The man made no movement to give the young boy any food although he momentarily held a water skin to his dry, chapped, copper-tinged lips. Although Merlin wished to take his mouthful of water and spit it into that man's face, the cool refreshing touch of the soothing liquid in his parched mouth caused his survival instinct to kick in and he gulped it down gratefully. It sickened him that he'd given in so easily but couldn't bring himself to truly regret the action.

Currently, Merlin was focused almost entirely on trying to ignore the protests and pains of his body, the whole time wavering on the edge of consciousness. Not because of the attacks though. Save for the black eye, all the abuse had been aimed below the neckline ensuring Merlin was not once granted the bliss of tipping over the edge into obliviousness but forced to experience every twinge and every ache in complete awareness.

This was his plan, Merlin had concluded. It was a revenge for his having defied the man; running when ordered to stay and blasting him away before sheltering behind Prince Arthur. His chest tightened at the memories that flashed before his heavy-lidded eyes at that thought.

If only he could slip into a silent slumber; all he wanted was to escape this hell-ish place for a short while but still his body held out, dragging him onwards, unrelenting through each second. As it was, he could hear that man behind him, hungrily eating something that smelt mildly unappetising but as Merlin's stomach grumbled at the smell, he remembered that when you're hungry you'd eat almost anything. His captor grunted something towards him but he was beyond discerning words at this point; barely able to hear the heavy footsteps that carried the man a short way off.

Fully closing his eyes, Merlin tried to force himself over that final push that would swallow him and allow him the rest he so sorely needed but it did little to help.

There was a cry somewhere behind him but Merlin's weary, pain-addled mind didn't register it, the sound blending and melding with that of the crackling fire as he failed to recall any memories that would ease the tension in his mind.

Footsteps, not as heavy as the ones that had left him, approached from behind and his body automatically tensed. As they drew closer he realised it couldn't be his brutish captor, they were too light-footed, barely making a sound as they moved. And Merlin couldn't explain it, but there was something more.

Some presence behind those footsteps that he couldn't place his finger on; something powerful that almost called to his magic which shifted in response, and he was able to sense its movements across the woodland floor towards him. The presence continued, stopping when it was stood barely inches from where he lay.

It sighed.

"Don't be dead." Merlin didn't dare to breath as he sensed the being lower itself to its knees beside him. "Please, don't be dead."

Fingers brushed lightly against his forehead, carefully moving his hair out of the way and he struggled to restrain a whimper. Initially, he still feared it might be his captor but he slowly came to the realisation that he couldn't be more wrong. That horrible, horrendous man only ever grabbed or smashed or punched or kicked him, but this touch was warm and gentle and caring.

Its reassuring motions penetrated through his skin, reaching straight to his core, soothing and settling his worried mind, tightened chest and restless magic until they were more peaceful than he could remember them being in a long time.

The touch withdrew and Merlin whimpered, suddenly worried that he may have imagined the wondrous calming presence and was only moments away from another beating.

The fingers moved, passing over the ropes that bound his hands and feet, causing them to simply fall away, forcing them to release their hold on him. No longer held in place by his restraints, Merlin cried out as he involuntarily leant on his broken arm, shooting pain all along his left side.

A calm, familiar voice hushed him as the hand returned to his face, brushing downwards until it was cradling his cheek, lifting his head slightly off the ground.

Since he had come to live in Camelot, Merlin had had contact with innumerable dangerous creatures; things and beings that scared him, that had chilled him to his very core but nothing, not in the whole of his existence compared to the warming beauty that coursed through him at the contact with this presence. Something, be it magical or instinctual, coursed into his soul from that touch, melting away all his fears and worries.

"What happened?" The thumb of the hand cradling his head brushed across his cheek and he moved towards it, comforted by the gesture. Whoever this magnificent being was, he prayed they wouldn't leave him, wishing to remain the way he was, comforted, warm and happy for as long as he possibly could.

While he allowed the touch to reassure him, an arm lifted his knees off the ground with no resistance and an arm was hooked beneath the crook they made from the other side. Then the touch left his cheek again, taking with it all the warmth and care, but before the sensations were gone completely, the arm the hand belonged to slipped under his neck.

Miraculously, he felt himself lifted from the cold, harsh ground into a near vertical position, somehow managing to avoid catching or causing further harm to his broken limb. Whoever they were brought him closer, cradling Merlin against their chest; a chest that rose and fell with a gentle and soothing rhythm which the boy automatically found himself mirroring.

Instinctively, Merlin reached up with his good arm, his fingers clutching at the shirt of the person holding him, unintentionally catching some of the excess material of his own shirt in the hold. Curling his fingers into a fist, Merlin tried to pull himself closer to the warm, glowing magical presence, for it _was_ magical, afraid it might fall away and leave him again at any moment.

"Hush, Merlin." The presence spoke, its voice reaching through the mire and fog that clouded his mind and body, talking to every part of him and allowing relaxation to roll through his entire being. "It's alright, I won't let him hurt you anymore. I promise." Merlin's fingers relaxed slightly but didn't remove themselves entirely while the voice continued to mutter quiet reassurances and shifted its hold so that it held his head close.

He felt safe in these arms. He felt safe and warm and protected, the experience the touch had given him spread across his whole body as the presence threw some sort of field around him and Merlin cracked his eyes open. He looked up, wanting to know who it was who made him feel that he was in safe hands, but the presence whispered another reassurance and his eyelids fluttered shut. Whether it was a spell or simply the fact that he felt secure in those arms, Merlin felt his mind finally succumbing to his need for sleep.

"I promise."

* * *

><p>Leaning against a pillar in the Prince's bed chambers Merlin watched, waiting, while Uther did the same from the seat placed next to his son's bed; both of them eager for any signs of change. The servant's broken arm was tightly bound to a splint while held close to his body by a sling Gaius had insisted he wear at all times.<p>

If the physician had his way, Merlin would've remained in his bed; the place he'd been unconscious since the Knights had returned him and Arthur to Camelot around five days ago. The place he'd woken to discover, after five minutes of rushing around panicking about Arthur, that he was…not short. I mean _really_ not short…as in tall…as in taller than Gaius…as in…back to normal. Once the physician shouted through the boy's hysteria, Merlin had looked down and noticed that the floor was a familiar distance away and he was no longer dressed in the Prince's childhood clothes. Rather, he was wearing the same garments he'd worn when he "disappeared".

Gaius had quickly guided him to a stool as everything swam momentarily, asking a series of questions as to what had happened but Merlin was missing a large portion of the story, just as his guardian was. It was at that moment his head had snapped up, eyes sharp with worry.

"Where's Arthur?"

The silence did not bode well.

Once the King found out that Merlin had awoken, he had many questions for the servant, bombarding him with them: What had happened? Where had he gone? How had Arthur found him? Was the sorcerer responsible for his son's condition? Was the sorcerer dead?

Unable to meet the worried father's gaze Merlin told him a half-truth: his memories weren't clear and he had no idea what was going on.

Of course, this did little to temper the King's ire and Merlin was sent to the dungeons for a few hours for being uncooperative. Upon his release the King offered him a muted half-apology that the servant accepted, knowing full well that Uther was afraid. From that point on, the pair of them took a vigil at the Prince's bedside.

Neither the manservant, nor the father understood what had caused the scene that sat like a poison before their eyes. All they could be certain of was that it was happening and it was getting worse.

Arthur was laid on his bed, blankets covering him from the waist down while his horrifically pallid chest was left bare, save for where Gaius had strapped up his broken ribs. Dark circles surrounded closed, sunken eyes and his chest barely moved with the motion of breathing which Gaius or Gwen entered the room to check every hour.

Since he and Merlin had been found, Arthur had not awoken even once and Uther had watched distraught as his son became worse with each day that passed. Naturally, once free of the dungeons, the manservant had also refused to leave the room and so they stayed, waiting in silence while Gaius tirelessly searched for a cure.

It was not his injuries, the physician had emphatically stated early on, for they were not severe enough to cause his current state; and neither was it any illness that he had ever come across before, as every remedy thus far had proved useless, neither improving nor worsening the condition and the Prince remained as he was, continually deteriorating.

Merlin had been relieved to find that Arthur hadn't died trying to protect him out in the woods but seeing his master like this, fading away into almost nothing… He _knew_ that if the King left he would be able to try some spell, to try and save Arthur; somewhere in his head there had to be a spell that could help the prat. Except Uther remained there, refusing to leave his son for even a second as he did every time something like this left the Prince on his deathbed.

At that thought it hit Merlin, truly hit him just how dire things were.

Arthur was in a bad way.


	10. My Lord's Protector

**Disclaimer:** You know what? The show still isn't mine. *shrugs* oh well, I can still dream :) *handed piece of paper* what's this? *reads* oh. it appears I can't dream either. Well screw you piece of paper handing person! I shall continue to dream regardless. Mwa ha ha ha ha! ...Not mine!

**A/N:** So this is now my most alerted story! Woop! Thank you so much everybody! X) I know this is a little bit late but this week has been hectic with family reunions and engagements (not mine). For this rapid update you must thank the extensive testing of my accommodation's fire alarm system for about three hours yesterday evening. It's amazing the progress you can make when listening to loud music in an attempt to block out the wailing sirens. This is a bit shorter than some of the more recent updates but I swear, hand on my heart, I could squeeze nothing more from this chapter without ruining the next one. Reminder to everyone, I will send a preview to everyone who reviews this chapter and then post it on my facebook page facebook[dot]com/lady[dot]harker. Next chapter holds ALL the answers (unless you're really clever and figure it out from this one). The next chapter is already partly written so hopefully it shouldn't be too long before I can update. Grr! I really want to tell you the chapter's title but I must restrain myself! Anyway, please read, review and enjoy :) l-h

**Chapter Ten: My Lord's Protector**

_It_ _was_ _when_ _he_ _was_ _halfway_ _to_ _the_ _door_ _that_ _Uther_ _turned_ _to_ _his_ _son__'__s_ _servant,_ _eyes_ _catching_ _momentarily_ _on_ _the_ _boy__'__s_ _strapped-up_ _arm_ _before_ _rising_ _to_ _find_ _his_ _face_ _still_ _clearly_ _brimming_ _with_ _anger._ _It_ _was_ _a_ _look_ _that_ _Uther_ _matched_ _and_ _bested_ _with_ _ease_ _as_ _he_ _spoke._

"_Watch_ _over_ _my_ _son.__"_

_Were_ _it_ _any_ _other_ _servant_ _who_ _stood_ _facing_ _the_ _King_ _at_ _that_ _moment,_ _the_ _intense_ _and_ _furious_ _glare_ _he_ _wore_ _boring_ _deeply_ _and_ _burning_ _with_ _accusation,_ _they_ _would_ _have_ _lowered_ _their_ _eyes,_ _muttering_ _hushed_ _apologies_ _and_ _shuffling_ _from_ _foot_ _to_ _foot_ _but_ _Merlin_ _stood_ _as_ _tall_ _as_ _his_ _current_ _state_ _allowed_ _him_ _returning_ _the_ _gaze_ _with_ _an_ _equal_ _amount_ _of_ _ferocity_ _and_ _unparalleled_ _level_ _of_ _determination_.

It had been barely a few minutes since the King had left but already his stern, desperate words were repeating themselves endlessly, over and over in Merlin's head. The words had been pointless and Merlin had seen that realisation slowly grow within Uther's eyes as they'd glared at one another.

As Merlin walked over to the foot of Arthur's huge bed, entranced by the still figure of his master that lay on it, he felt his heart sink further until it was almost in his shoes. Both Gaius and Uther were beginning to talk as though the Prince was all but dead and at the sight of Arthur's far too pale skin, Merlin was finding it difficult to argue with them.

Gaius had told Merlin numerous times _not_ to blame himself but how could he not when it was _his_ responsibility to protect Arthur, when _he_ was the one with the means and the magic to prevent scenarios exactly like this one. Yet, even with those who had told him time and again how he was destined to do great things and bring about a new kingdom at Arthur's side…here he stood and there Arthur lay.

"_I_ _know_ _a_ _dead_ _man_ _when_ _I_ _see_ _one.__"_ Those had been Uther's exact words before he'd finally decided to give up his vigil in favour of resting and the words had taken the breath from Merlin's chest. Uther would never give up on his son like that, not while he was in his right mind. Still, Merlin was grateful for whatever it took to get the King out of Arthur's chambers.

Moving round to the side of the bed, Merlin continued to gaze down at the still form and begrudgingly accepted that there was nothing he could do to stop whatever had caused this, but there was still a chance he could end it.

Taking a deep breath, Merlin reached out with his good arm, the fingers on his hand splayed out as he lowered it onto Arthur's bare chest. As his fingers brushed against the skin, Merlin flinched back from the coldness that saturated it. He had never felt a living human that cold before and his heart stopped momentarily at the thought that he may already be too late, but it was a thought he quickly shook from his head. Extending his arm out again, he ignored the bitter sting of the flesh as he placed his hand in the centre of the too-still chest.

Breathing in again, he reached for his magic which no longer bubbled or writhed restlessly beneath his skin, instead waiting patiently until he called on it as he did now. Merlin focused all his attention on the unmoving chest as he allowed his power to fill him before directing it outwards along his arm and through his eyes.

"_Facere_ _sanus_ _et_ _fortis._" He felt the warming presence of his magic pass through him and into Arthur before waiting nearly a minute for something to happen.

Nothing…

Blinking furiously, Merlin tried not to panic as he called on his magic again.

"_Restituere_ _in_ _pristinam_ _gloriam_ _bellator._"

Still nothing…

"_Reducam_ _eum_ _ad_ _me._"

…

"_Curabo_ _eum!_"

…

"_Restituo!_" Merlin clamped his eyes shut, unwilling to pay the growing knot of worry and fear in his chest any mind and failing to ignore it. "_Restituo!_ Please, Arthur!"

There was no response, nothing but silence to break the air that hung before him as Merlin straightened up, struggling to keep his breath steady and not allowing himself to open his stinging eyes and let the threatening tears fall at the sight of the failed fruits of his magical labour.

He _couldn__'__t_ have failed.

Arthur _couldn__'__t_ be dying.

It just…

It just…

"Arthur…" He raised his hand to press against his right eye in an attempt to keep his mind from accepting what was happening and hoping to somehow keep the salty water from falling, knowing that his tears would only be admitting defeat. He took a shaky, unsteady breath. "No…"

"Don't tell me you're giving up on him as well." This sudden voice, which was most definitely not Arthur's, caused Merlin to look over to where he'd spent the better part of four days watching over the blond-haired prat to see a stranger stood carefully watching him. "If there's anybody who shouldn't give up on him, it's you."

The man was slightly taller than him, dressed in a dark tunic with dark brown breeches and black boots while his scruffy dark hair gave the appearance that he didn't often venture in from the outdoors. Unfortunately he was hidden from the light that the window threw across the room and stood, for the most part, in the shadows, hiding most of his features. Taking a few steps away from the bed but never turning from the stranger before him, Merlin's thoughts quickly turned to what he'd just done and his heart beat faster in fear of having been seen.

"How long have you been there?"

There was a pause in which he feared the man _had_ seen him use his magic but he simply blinked and did little else. "Not long."

Merlin swallowed. "Did you see…?"

"You despairing over Arthur's body?" The stranger nodded, looking solemn. "I'm afraid I did."

Merlin shifted a few steps forward, remaining next to the bed while subconsciously taking a defensive stance as he stood between Arthur and this strange person. "Who are you?"

"You probably don't remember me. You were only about," he held his hand just above his waist, with a gentle chuckle, "this high last time we met." The smile shrank slightly before he continued. "_And_ you were asleep."

"Who are you?"

The dark haired-stranger straightened up and Merlin watched as his smile completely fell away into a more serious look. "I'm here to help."

There was a momentary silence before the man moved to take a step forward and Merlin instinctively reached out with his good arm. "Stay back."

"Alright. Okay." Straight away, the stranger moved back to where he'd just been and raised his hands in defence. "Take it easy."

"Who are you?"

"My name is Peter. I'm sort of, kind of responsible for…" he took a deep breath in an attempt to remain calm, "_everything_ that's led to…" he reached an arm out towards the bed. Merlin glanced across, momentarily forgetting what he might be talking about and flinched from the sight he saw, "…to this."

"You." Realisation slowly crept into the edge of Merlin's mind, awakening his sluggish thoughts to what Peter was saying. "_You__'__re_ the sorcerer. The one we were looking for."

"The one Arthur found."

Merlin's heart stopped. "Arthur _what_?"

Peter winced, closing his eyes for a few seconds as he bit his lip. "I wasn't supposed to say that bit."

Having appeared from nowhere, stepped from the shadows as it were and this revelation as to who he really was, there was a great cloud that obscured Merlin's ability to trust this man as he looked him up and down. "What are you doing here?"

"I told you, I'm here to help."

"You keep saying that." Clenching his fist, he slammed it into the bedpost beside him, anger spiking within him. "_Why_ do you keep saying that?"

"Because I _am_ here to help." He sighed. "Look, I understand it's confusing. I don't know what else I can to say to convince you."

"You're-"

"But I promise you, Merlin." Peter moved his right hand to his chest allowing it to rest gently over his heart while his left hand remained in the air. "I will swear upon any oath you ask of me. I mean you, and I most certainly mean Arthur, no harm."

Merlin always tried to see the best in people but he didn't want to let this man, this…this…sorcerer anywhere near Arthur, especially in his current state. Peter was right, it _was_ confusing. Struggling to think straight, the servant turned away, lowering his gaze as he walked alongside the bed again, his fingertips brushing the edge of the blanket that covered his friend.

Chest heaving slightly, his breathing was heavy as he took in the sight of the Prince laid out on the bed before him and felt it drag him back to the reality of what was going on. Whether or not this man could be trusted…maybe he knew. "What happened to him?"

"I tried to warn him." There was a pause in which Peter tentatively risked trying to take another step forward. Unseen and unchallenged, he continued until he was stood at the foot of the bed. "I told him that he'd probably end up dead if he went after you but that boy…" He laughed lightly with a slight shake of his head. "He's as stubborn an ass as ever I've met."

Merlin's fingers curled into a loose fist, the nails digging harshly into his palm as his chest tightened. "He came after me?"

Glancing up, his attention caught by the tone of the boy's voice, Peter frowned and pointed at him. "You dare think _this_," his finger moved across until it was directed at Arthur's still form, "is even partially your fault for even a moment and I swear, I _will_ hit you."

"But-"

"No buts. This is _my_ fault…" he looked thoughtfully to the side for a moment as he lowered his finger. "And potentially partly Arthur's."

Merlin fought back a cough as his fingers slowly uncurled and began pulling, absent-mindedly, at the edge of the sheet upon which the blond lay.

"Is he…" When Peter's gaze returned to settle on the boy it was to see a pitiful expression that had drifted from the Prince's face, slowly making its way along the bed linen and stopping short of his own gaze. "Is Arthur going to die?"

"That depends." Blue eyes rose to meet brown ones, betraying the fear of what was next to be said. "Do you want me to tell you the _truth_ or something that'll make you feel better?"

Peter could almost see the thoughts pass through the boy's head as he paused, carefully considering his answer. "Can't I have both?"

Turning to look upon Arthur instead, unable to hold the boy's gaze and see the response in those shimmering eyes, Peter held his breath. "Arthur will be dead before the sun sets."

It was in that moment that Merlin thought he felt the very air around him become unnaturally chilled, practically freezing around him, piercing through his skin and reaching down into his chest, restricting each of his organs until its grip was tight around his very bones. Merlin was convinced that had he looked in a mirror at that point his skin would match that of the dying Prince.

He flinched, even the thought of that word burning him. It wasn't a possibility. Arthur _couldn__'__t_ die!

"Unless."

His eyes, which he hadn't even realised he'd screwed up against the thought of losing his friend, shot open and he looked directly at Peter.

"Unless what?" It hadn't been a bait to give him hope only to leave him dashed and broken when it didn't work; it wasn't a possibility, a potential. It was a statement. As though there was a definite way to save Arthur yet. "Unless what!"

"There is something _I_ can do." Peter gave a half-shrug. "Like I said, it's why I'm here. To help."

"What can _you_ do?"

The sorcerer sighed as he moved to lean against the same post that Merlin had punched only minutes ago. "It's long and complicated and frankly, Merlin, we don't have the time." He threw a glance towards the window which Merlin followed, sure enough the light of day was disappearing over the edge of the castle. There was maybe another two hours of daylight left but even so, seeing the passing of time through the glass only caused the pressure around his heart to tighten. "But there is something _you_ could do."

The hold on his chest loosened slightly at the prospect of being able to do something. "Anything."

"Firstly, take a deep breath and stay calm. Secondly, step away from the bed, let me look at Arthur." He saw the boy tense at that suggestion and instinctively lean towards the body on the bed, the frame preventing him from taking another step. A small smile tugged at Peter's lips at the thought of how these two were far too protective of each other for their own good. "Thirdly, and most importantly, Merlin I need you to just…" he clasped his hands together as though begging. No. Not begging; praying. "Trust me."

Peter watched emotion after emotion pass, not across his face but rather through those blue eyes of his until he turned away and the sorcerer took a deep breath. He held out an arm indicating Arthur.

"Look at him, Merlin." The servant actually turned away from the bed, not needing to look, the image unlikely ever to truly leave his mind. "Look at him!" Merlin looked back to meet his eyes again and he knew that was the best he could probably hope for, for now. "What have you _possibly_ got to lose?"

Everything.

That was the only word that came to his mind at that question; everything.

How could this man do anything to help Arthur when Merlin's own magic had done nothing? What could this man, this wrecker of lives possibly do that the servant hadn't tried or thought of?

There was everything to lose if Arthur died…but if it worked there was oh so much more to gain when the Prince awoke; the greatest being his continued living of course.

Peter waited patiently, waited for the approval he had known he would get from the moment Merlin had stood defensively between the perceived threat and the 'precious treasure'. That servant was just like his master, willing to do anything to save his friend.

He watched as Merlin took a deep breath and stepped back from the bed, obviously putting a good deal of faith in the strange man before him, and found himself wondering how the raven-haired boy would react if he knew just how far Arthur _had_ gone to get him back.

Pausing only to bow his head in thanks, Peter walked down the side of the bed, standing where Merlin had been only moments before and clapped his hands. The sound cut through the air, a sharp crisp noise that caused the observing servant to flinch back. Over the last few days everyone had spoken in hushed voices and trodden softly through the room, afraid of disturbing the Prince in some way and Merlin had not left this room in that time.

He watched as the man at Arthur's bedside began to gently rub his hands together. The man then reached across, carefully placing one hand on either side of the Prince's head holding it firmly and took a few steadying breaths.

When he spoke there was a light sound of magic to his words and Merlin felt the warmth of the spell as it almost skipped through the air. "_Reverti_ _ad_ _viam_ _quae_ _debet._" It was not a spell that Merlin knew and what its intention was he neither knew nor cared, all that mattered was that it worked.

For a few moments there was nothing more than a hushed silence between the three men and Merlin feared that it hadn't worked until he saw a slight smile grow on Peter's face, reacting to something that he couldn't see.

Holding his breath, Merlin watched as Arthur's chest slowly began to swell, his mouth opened in a silent gasp that seemed to fill his lungs with the air they'd lacked for what had seemed a lifetime. The Prince's head began to lean backwards, his chin pushing itself higher into the air while his back began to arc.

"Come on, Arthur."

The servant's eyes flicked to Peter's face barely registering the small frown there before returning to look once more at the blond.

_Come_ _on,_ _Arthur._

Merlin willed the Prince to hear that call, hoping he might be able to follow it from wherever he was, back to the land of the living.

The light chuckle that escaped Peter's lips didn't reach Merlin's consciousness, his focus held firmly by the thin, golden, glowing tendrils that were twisting and winding as they rose out of Arthur's open mouth. Slow, beautiful and entrancing, they gracefully writhed through the air leaving small shimmering trails that created entrancing patterns as they were drawn away from the Prince and towards Peter.

As they reached the sorcerer each wisp of golden light sped up, tracing along his entire body, gradually dissipating until it was gone by the time it reached his knees.

Merlin watched, mesmerised by the impossible display before him, until after a few minutes Arthur's back relaxed, his chest going lax and his body falling to the bed as Peter took his hands away, watching with a smile as the remaining tendrils ran over his fingers before following the rest.

The sorcerer took a tentative step back, stumbling slightly but managing to catch himself before falling to the unforgiving stone floor. Merlin however barely noticed, instead watching Arthur intently. The Prince was still, silent and unmoving on the bed and his chest tightened.

Had it, whatever _it_ was, worked?

"He's not going to be straight back to normal you know."

"Did it…?" Fearful blue eyes turned to him and Peter almost felt guilty for the unabated, broad smile he wore but he knew the boy stood before him would soon match it; most likely he would best it. "Is he…?"

He chuckled. "Why don't you actually look?"

Confused, Merlin turned back, watching carefully and intently for something he must have missed before. Yet it still took almost two minutes before he noticed the pallid chest rising and falling steadily while the audible breathing matched it perfectly.

"How-?" He turned to Peter. "What did you do?"

All he received in reply was a heartened smirk as Peter rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "You know, I really can't stay." He threw a final glance towards the no longer deathly-still figure of Arthur in the bed and he fought his growing smile in an attempt to look serious for a moment. "You might want to call the physician now."

Still smirking, Peter stepped into the shadows, his dark clothes melding with them instantly and as Merlin looked closer at the spot the man had just been in, there was no one there. The sorcerer was gone.

The manservant stood, his mind and body frozen for a moment at the sudden disappearance. What on earth had he just seen? What had _happened_?

Then, all of a sudden, his mind snapped back to attention, remembering the important part of what had happened. Nearly tripping in his rush to the side of the bed, Merlin watched as Arthur's face turned to one side while a shiver ran through him. He was still deathly pale and uncovered from the waist up and Merlin struggled to pull the blanket up with one hand, waiting until it reached at least to the Prince's shoulders before he let it go.

The shivers didn't stop although they did lessen in response to the warmth around him and Arthur let out a gentle sigh. Feeling the sigh tickle against his back of his hand, Merlin moved it over the top of the blanket, running his fingers over it in an unexplainable attempt to spread out some of the creases. Probably to make it more comfortable although not entirely sure if that was anything to do with it.

As his hand passed over the middle of Arthur's chest, he paused, splaying his fingers out and allowing himself to feel the gentle rise and fall that came with each new strong breath the man on the bed took.

"Gaius."

The physician's name was only spoken quietly, barely discernable to Merlin's ears even though he was the one who had said it. It served as a reminder as the word wormed its way into the front of his mind. Merlin slowly raised his head, withdrawing his hand from where it was braced against Arthur's chest and he recalled Peter's parting words.

As he saw each breath draw in and let out, realisation slowly crept up on Merlin that Arthur was better.

Merlin's eyes widened.

He was _better_.

_Arthur_ was better.

Taking in a sudden gasp of air and fighting the urge to cough, Merlin turned to the door, rushing towards it as he yelled as loud as he could, knowing that _someone_ was sure to hear him.

"GAIUS!"


	11. With the Eyes of an Angel

**Disclaimer:** We probably wouldn't even have the first series if it were anything to do with me so I think it's safe to assume I'm nothing to do with the show.

**A/N:** So yeah, three weeks, but I got reason. Week one: no confidence following harsh review. Week Two: News and Feature Writing deadlines and interviewee suddenly taking ill and rushing to find a replacement. Week Three: I've come home for the holidays and been shopping and volunteering, this is technically my first day off so yeah here's your update. Hopefully I haven't screwed it up too bad and you can all forgive me for the lateness. As always I will send the preview for the next (and final) chapter to all reviewers and post it on my facebook page fb[dot]com/lady[dot]harker. One last thing. I'm already in the midst of planning another Merlin fic called Upon Reflection and if you could just take a few moments to say if you'd be interested in reading in it on the poll on my profile. Anyway I think that's everything. Hope you enjoy it.

**Chapter Eleven: With the Eyes of an Angel**

Leaning back against the foot of the tree Peter had forced him to sit by, Arthur resisted the urge to reach to his stomach for nearly the thousandth time. It wasn't entirely healed yet, any strenuous activity would most likely tear it open again which was unfortunate but to be honest considering what he'd just been told, it was the least of his concerns. There was a residual twinge from the wound and his fingers kept wanting to trace it to remind himself of how much he'd already been through to get here. Whether that went for or against the suggestion Peter had made was still kind of unclear.

"Okay…"

Peter was stood five feet away carefully watching each thought and emotion as it played across the Prince's face.

"So. What do you say?"

Arthur ran a hand down the side of his face quietly ignoring the headache that had slowly developed since he'd awoken. This was a big thing. It was bigger than big. This was a plan that could solve everything with such ease but to agree to it went against everything he'd ever been taught while growing up under his father's guidance.

Yet the more he thought upon it, the more he thought back over the lessons and the words that his father had spent years diligently drilling into him as a matter of course, Arthur found himself bombarded by another memory of his idiotic manservant.

Falling over his own feet as he went about his chores, groaning at joining the knights in training _again_ despite obviously having no real upper body strength, smirking as he dodged yet another projectile Arthur hurled in his direction for his rudeness or as he tore back those damned curtains; those strangely reassuring moments of disconcerting wisdom the fool was occasionally able to display. Then the image of a distressed, raven-haired young boy curled up and shivering on Gaius' cot pushed itself forward in his mind.

Merlin was useless at defending himself at the best of times, physically incapable of holding up either a sword or shield to aid him, but now he was a _child_! Less than half his former size, he couldn't even use his normally remarkably long legs to get himself out of danger's harm as fast as he possibly could.

"Is there _any_ other way I can save him?"

"Not that we have time to put into practice."

Arthur nodded before wincing as he remembered the pained look and the silent whimpers that filled his last memories of that familiar young boy. Those motions, those sounds and fears reminded him that right now there was an impossibly high chance Merlin was even younger than when they'd last seen each other. Even more helpless…

Regardless of what he knew, of what he believed, at that moment, Arthur knew there was only one answer to Peter's question.

"Alright."

Glancing up, he saw Peter lightly shaking his head. "You know you're insane, right? This could very well kill you."

"You suggested it."

"True," he tilted his head to the side as he considered something Arthur couldn't guess at, "but you're agreeing to it."

Arthur lowered his gaze again; focusing instead on his fingers as they shook lightly from the stinging cold that was nipping at them from the chilled air.

"If your father found out-"

"You honestly think I would tell my father of this?" If his father knew he was even entertaining the thought of this chance, he'd be disowned faster than you could say "deeply-rooted, ultimate betrayal".

"No, I suppose not." Peter took in the sight of Arthur sat there, clearly at war with himself over his decision and had the blond not spoken his mind, he would never have guessed which side of him was winning. Still, he thought as he reached out an arm, winning may have been a slightly-too-strong term as the man still didn't look entirely convinced of his own decision.

Arthur stared at the outstretched arm for a short while, sitting in quiet contemplation before taking it in a firm grip and pulling himself to his unsteady feet. Letting go, he realised Peter didn't match the motion and glanced up to look the sorcerer in the eye.

"Are you sure about this, Arthur?"

Barely a second passed before he resumed his tight hold on Peter's arm, squeezing it slightly. "I _have_ to save Merlin."

Peter's dark eyes flashed with curiosity as his hold held tight. "Why?"

As he blinked, an old memory Arthur had moved on from but never forgotten played before his eyes. Merlin was stood in the middle of the hall, surrounded by knights and lords, all of them men of noble birth. This sole man was stood in the middle of them all, holding everyone's attention as he raised the goblet in a toast to the Prince, although others believed it to be to the King, before slowly downing the wine within. Arthur's chest was tight as he watched it, powerless to stop it and the imminent death of the idiot, either by sword or by poison.

Opening his eyes, the flash of a memory faded but the fear that gripped his chest remained. Merlin had been sure that drinking the wine would kill him and still he had done it. Time and again, no matter what was happening, he had always appeared to have Arthur's best interests at heart and maybe, just maybe this might be his chance to repay that loyalty.

"He would do the same were it me."

"So long as you're sure." Peter's grip released and Arthur unknowingly shook a bit of life back into his arm as the sorcerer raised his hands to grip at either side of the Prince's head. "I should warn you, this is _really_ going to hurt."

With a half nod, Arthur took a deep breath and braced himself while Peter looked him directly in the eyes with a disconcerting stare.

As the sorcerer spoke, his words sounded somewhat heavy, strange and wholly unfamiliar, and something in Arthur's chest twisted in response.

"_Da_ _fortitudunem_ _meam_."

He just caught sight of Peter's eyes flashing gold before his mind near exploded.

The world before him went white and he felt the fierceness of power as it rushed past his mind, through his chest and seared like fire through every fibre of his being, reaching to fill him completely. Beyond his gasp of shock as it started, he hadn't taken a single breath and his chest was beginning to ache in complaint but he hadn't a clue how to make it stop, unable to even move.

Then just as suddenly as it started, it stopped, his vision clearing, tainted as it was by a glittering brightness as he struggled to keep his eyes open.

* * *

><p>As he finished speaking the spell, Peter watched as Arthur's eyes flared a startlingly bright gold and felt him tense as the power he couldn't use coursed through the Prince's chest and skittered along each of his limbs.<p>

Feeling it move and pool in Arthur, Peter paid it little attention, instead focusing on trying not to overwhelm Arthur's body, secretly aware he was probably well past that point by now. It wasn't until Arthur's knees began to buckle that he tore his hands away, quickly hooking his arms under the blond's shoulders and just managing to keep him from collapsing completely.

"Arthur? Arthur!" Hoisting the guy upwards he saw Arthur's eyes still blazing gold beneath fluttering eyelids and bit his lip in worry as he managed to get no response. "Arthur, say something!"

"Ow…" Peter sighed at the quiet, pained groan; secretly grateful he hadn't killed the crown prince of Camelot. "You weren't joking."

Bracing himself in an attempt to get a better grip and _not_ drop Arthur into an unsightly heap, Peter struggled, only just coping when the Prince finally managed to get one of his own shaky legs beneath him. It wasn't the best of support, trembling under the weight of the limp form of the Prince, but it was enough to let him maintain some small amount of dignity.

Peter ignored the mumble of protest Arthur made as he gently lowered him back into a sitting position against the tree again. The Prince's eyes had finally drifted closed but it was clear he hadn't fallen unconscious from the restless shifting and pained look of discomfort that adorned his face.

"Merlin…" Peter rolled his eyes at the quiet mumble and easily held Arthur down as he attempted to sit forward. "I have to…"

"Not yet, Arthur. But don't worry." Straightening up he felt his back click into place as he stretched, feeling slightly woozy. "There's still plenty of time to get yourself killed trying to save him."

Wearily pulling his eyes open, Arthur threw him a piercing glare which Peter either failed to notice or simply ignored as he took a few steps back. "You're not exactly filling me with confidence."

Finally catching the once-again blue-eyed look, Peter seemed unperturbed, merely shrugging. "Just giving my professional opinion."

"Well, thank you." Closing his eyes again, Arthur leant his head back. "But I don't want it."

Peter was saying something but the words just washed over him. He didn't feel too great; the tightness in his chest wasn't shifting while the pit of his stomach was twisting uncomfortably. Even so, as he felt the rough tree bark push against the back of his head, there was a gentle, reassuring hum that ran along his skin, banishing the cold and making him feel almost as though he was glowing.

"Arthur! Are you listening to me?" Looking up he saw Peter watching him, a look of anger on his face. "You're _try_ing to get yourself killed aren't you?

"No!" Sitting forward his chest tightened again and he fell back hard against the tree.

Peter still looked angry but it was slowly falling away as he watched Arthur continually shifting in obvious confusion and discomfort. "How do you feel?"

Everything around Arthur seemed to be moving and not moving at the same time and he reached up to cover his eyes, holding them closed in a vain hope of anchoring himself somewhat. "Really strange."

"It'll do that. Just relax. Give it a while to adjust." Peter nodded, smiling slightly as Arthur shifted again. He placed a soothing hand on Arthur's shoulder to keep him still for two minutes and smiled wider as the Prince finally stilled. "I promise, you can go save the kid soon so just take it easy."

* * *

><p>Arthur wasn't sure when exactly the sun had gone down, having drifted off only to wake up alone and bathed in the light of the risen moon. He hadn't a clue to the time or even which way to go.<p>

Merlin's kidnapper could've left in any direction and had a day's head start on him and Peter, the man, the sorcerer in whom Arthur had placed all his trust, had just disappeared.

Yet as he'd looked around at the woods, wondering what on earth he was supposed to do, there was one direction, away from the glittering orb that was the moon on high, which he was continually drawn towards. Each time he passed over it with his eyes, there was something in his chest that reached out trying to encourage him forwards and, with his little knowledge on how magic worked and what on earth he was doing, he prayed that it was the way he needed.

And so, putting what little faith he had left into it, Arthur had followed that tug, that pull which was forcing him forward now, speeding past trees and covering more ground with each stride than he had believed humanly possible.

Forcing himself to try and go even faster, he hoped to God that he hadn't passed them or gone the wrong way. He had no idea the kind of distance that might have been put between them or even where they were heading but that didn't stop or slow him.

Nothing did.

Well nothing until his leg gave out, catching on a risen root that stuck up from the ground much like a small wooden arch and the Prince was sent tumbling across the earthen floor, forced to close his eyes against the debris it threw up.

It was only when he stopped, his chest heaving with each breath he took, that he even noticed how terrible he felt. Every muscle was aching, his head was pounding, his chest was tight and his tunic and hair were beginning to stick to his chest and forehead from all the sweat he hadn't realised he was covered in.

God, he felt awful!

Yet even with his sudden realisation he couldn't mistake the familiar gruff voice that came from a short way off. "You're supposed to be dead."

Restraining a shiver, Arthur steadily reached to his side, pushing himself up to a sitting position and immediately locked eyes with the very man he had been searching for. Having discarded his dark jacket, the light tunic he must have been wearing underneath stood out brightly against the darkness but there was no mistaking that face.

The fingers of Merlin's kidnapper quickly curled around the hilt of his sword, bracing to draw it out in order to strike the stupid boy down again.

"What are you going to do, Arthur?" Peter had asked him back in that clearing before he had fallen asleep. "When you find that man?"

Arthur had gazed at a section of floor with a look of pure anger and determination before near-growling his response. "If I allow him to live, he will keep coming back." And Peter had nodded his understanding, keeping quiet as to whether or not he agreed with the decision.

And now, there that man stood, only a few feet from Arthur, a mixture of confusion and anger twisting his fearsome face as he prepared to fight.

Taking a confident step forward, Arthur reached a shaky hand out and half-shouted the spell Peter had hastily taught him for this exact moment.

"_Perdendum_ _eum_!"

His vision went white for a second and he felt the power explode out from his hand, hearing the cry it tore from the man's throat as it smashed him flat in the chest and threw him off into the forest. As the world blistered back into view Arthur swayed, attempting to blink away the sudden increased weariness that had overtaken him after the surprising display of power.

Glancing over to where the man had landed, Arthur's first instinct was to check that his opponent was actually dead. It was something he had come to learn from the battlefield, having had many an enemy feign death, either to survive to fight another day or launch an unexpected attack against an unsuspecting foe.

In fact he had taken a few steps forward, still intent on reassuring himself when a slight sudden unexpected sound caught at his attention, dragging his focus away to the small fire that had been behind that man.

And that's when Arthur saw Merlin.

At least he believed the small, clothing-swamped boy to be Merlin, for who else could the raven-haired child be.

Ignoring the protests of his increasingly tired body and disregarding what appeared to be a developing limp, Arthur hobbled around the flickering flames of the small fire, focusing on the back that was facing towards him. Slowly shuffling, he stopped when he was stood in front of the seemingly slumbering form at his feet.

"Don't be dead." Taking a sharp breath which he released in a gentle sigh, Arthur began to lower himself to his knees. "Please, don't be dead."

The small child didn't appear to be more than possibly six or maybe even seven years of age, huddled while swamped in the Prince's childhood clothing. With a half smile to himself, Arthur looked at the tired face, momentarily dismissing the blackened eye, and realised that even as a child there was no mistaking the boy for someone else.

It was Merlin.

Reaching out, his fingers brushed against the little boy's forehead, eyes desperately seeking out a response but finding nothing until he looked down at the boy's restrained arms and legs. Silently thanking Peter for the few spells the sorcerer had taught him, he passed his hand over the ropes. "_Vinculis_ _liberavit_."

With a silent snap the binding ropes broke and Arthur tugged them away, flinching from the cry Merlin gave as his body was allowed to relax.

"Ssh." Mentally chiding himself as he reached out to reassure Merlin, Arthur noticed that the boy's left arm was twisted at an odd angle beneath him. Yet even with the obvious pain, as he turned to look at Merlin's face, he noticed his eyes still weren't open.

Moving his hand so that he was holding Merlin's face off the ground, he traced a thumb along the boy's cheek. The swelling around his eye looked painful and he had still to give a sign that he was awake. Surely if he had been asleep then the noise and motion, goodness surely the pain, would've awoken him.

"What happened to you?" his question was asked not to the boy but rather to the cold air that surrounded them, even though he still could not feel it, warded off as it was by the magic that was still within him.

Peter had said that he couldn't help Merlin, but after many demands from Arthur, had taught the necessary incantation to the Prince so _he_ could undo what had been done to his manservant. With a cautionary glance to where the kidnapper still laid, he knew that it wasn't safe to risk him possibly waking up and catching them. Not after everything.

So carefully, taking great care not to knock Merlin's clearly broken arm, he lifted the boy from the ground and shifted his hold so he was cradling the young child to his chest. Closing his eyes, he allowed himself to feel his manservant's evening breaths push against his equally heaving chest, taking solace in the fact that the boy was still alive.

The front of his tunic rumpled and opening his eyes he saw the fingers of Merlin's good arm tightly curled into the fabric and lightly pulling against him. Still his eyes were closed but Arthur counted the motion as a sign that Merlin knew he wasn't alone and smiled.

"Hush, Merlin. It's alright, I won't let him hurt you anymore. I promise" He gently rubbed the boy's back in an attempt to keep him calm and felt him relax slightly in his arms.

There was a slight shifting and Merlin gently tilted his head upwards, his eyes barely opened and looking to see who was above him. Arthur just pulled him closer, worriedly whispering to him to calm down and that everything was going to be fine and the small head fell down to lean against his chest once more.

"I promise."

Throwing one final cautionary look over the nearby trees, Arthur turned and began walking. His pace was slow and he stumbled more than once but he didn't stop putting one foot in front of the other, all the while clutching Merlin to his now heaving chest. With each step he would mention another one of the things he was going to have Merlin do once this was all over; polishing and cleaning and stable mucking and the usual things he'd threaten during their usual banter. The chilled silence that came back made his words seem hollow but he prayed that it was calming Merlin more than it was him.

Again, he lost pace of time, not stopping in his weary march until he fell to his knees in a wholly unfamiliar area of the forest.

He'd stopped talking nearly a half hour back, instead shifting his focus on not collapsing, knowing that if it were left to his luck, he'd probably end up landing on Merlin. Except now he felt ready to just give up.

Each breath of his was sounding more ragged and strained while he knew there was no chance he could get back to his feet again, not with the way they felt. If he was going to help Merlin before he gave in to exhaustion, which was a possibility that he could tell was not that far off, it had to be now.

Carefully he lowered Merlin to the floor, noticing as he drew his hands away that they were shaking and instinctually his hand reached to his stomach. His wound was seeping slightly and the slight trickle of blood quickly covered his fingertips, although the realisation didn't quite reach his brain which was continually telling him to give up and sleep already.

Reaching up, Arthur rubbed repeatedly at his weary eyes completely unaware of the small trails of blood that he was leaving in the wake of each motion. He was so tired and knew he was surely only minutes from completely losing any control over his current state of consciousness.

Looking at Merlin's peaceful face, the boy having long ago fallen asleep, Arthur prayed he could still remember the words he had struggled to learn as he placed his hand as close to Merlin's heart as possible.

"Nees…Nees eek…" He coughed, trying to dislodge the bile that was rising in his throat while not vomiting. When it didn't work he tried swallowing. "_Nisi_ _hic_ _puer_. Lib-" This time he was broken off by chest wracking coughs and leaned away from Merlin, promptly emptying his stomach of what little nourishment there was to be found in there.

With a final deep breath as he placed his hand back on Merlin's chest, he shouted the words, forcing each of them out his mouth before something else happened that would try to prevent him.

"_Nisi_ _hic_ _puer!_ _Libera_ _animam_ _eius!_"

Arthur took a sharp breath as the unfamiliar magic blinded him, his vision going white again and he panicked but fought against his instinct to draw back. Blinded as he was, Arthur didn't see the magic as it left his hand, guided by his golden eyes to surround the boy and encompass him in a soothing and reassuring golden glow.

"_Reddat_ _eum!_"

Peter hadn't told him that part and they were not words that he knew, falling from his lips with ease although he knew nothing of what they were meant to do. But something about the words, commanding and angered as they were, seemed to spur the glowing magic into action, shifting and growing until it was almost twice as big as before.

Then the glowing began to subside, small spots of gold floating up from the prone form before dissipating into the darkness. Soon, more than half the glow was gone and visible beneath was a lanky form with a familiar face, big ears, high cheekbones and unmistakable dark hair.

Yet as the spell continued and revealed more of the restored man, including the lengthened clothes he wore, the more Arthur realised he'd gone too far. His still sightless eyes were threatening to close while his tired and weary shoulders began to sag but still he kept his hand over his manservant's heart.

Just as the final spots of glittering restoration floated through the rapidly lightening night air, the Prince's body just about gave out, his hand slipping from its hold as he fell sideways, eyes firmly drawn shut.

Not half an hour later, the sun was almost fully risen, illuminating the two young men of Camelot and bathing them in a perfectly natural glow. Neither of them knew that the other was perfectly alright and had you come across them as they laid there, the feet of one by the head of the other, you could easily have told as both had one hand reaching out towards their companion subconsciously seeking to see their fate but both perfectly asleep and unaware.

And it was in this position that Uther's Knights found them in but a few hours later.

* * *

><p>There were many voices mixing together around Arthur when he finally became aware again. All of them sounded frantic and a few were shouting. In anger? He couldn't quite tell, but they certainly were quite harsh and <em>very<em> loud.

There were a series of indignant cries by a voice that he was almost able to place. It was a voice he trusted but the sounds of his protests were not the usual tone he would normally expect of it; at least that is how it seemed, the cries instantly familiar yet in an unusual way. This different tone encouraged him to rise but his greatly weakened body held him firmly in place on the comforting sheets he was laid upon now.

Every muscle in his body ached and he felt completely drained, barely managing to gather the energy to force his eyes open but all he could make out before him was a darkened figure who may or may not have said something to him before his eyes were drawn closed again.

Try as he might, Arthur couldn't seem to muster the drive to try and look about him again nor aid the decreasing protesting voice, instead sinking back against whatever he was laid on and settling for drifting back to the blissfully inviting unawares.

* * *

><p>It was decidedly silent the next time he was dredged out of unconsciousness. No frantic or angered voices nearby, no one breathing nor anyone seemingly waiting for him to awake. A small part of him was disappointed.<p>

"I told you not to overdo it."

Restraining a groan and keeping his eyes closed, Arthur slowly recalled some of his less blurred memories from back in the clearing.

"And I told _you_ I never wanted to see you again." He was surprised at how strained his own voice sounded, though whether it came from lack of use or his dry scratchy throat, he wasn't entirely sure.

"Trust me, the feeling is entirely mutual."

Opening his eyes, Arthur noticed the grey stone ceiling above him and indeed the bed beneath him were both his own, familiar and somewhat reassuring. As he glanced down towards the end of his bed, he saw Peter stood just beside the post, half-leaning against the wooden support.

"Then why exactly are you stood at the foot of my bed?"

Peter quirked an eyebrow, internally debating whether Arthur was fully coherent yet considering there was only three things he could be there for; himself, the Prince or the manservant.

"I thought you'd want to know about Merlin."

"Merlin?" Arthur slowly forced himself up from his rumpled sheets until he was more or less sitting up, leaning forward slightly and breathing rather heavily at the strain caused by the movement. "Is he alright? Did it work?" Carefully he searched through his last memories but the only ones he found were of the young boy he'd found out in the forest. His heart hammered in his chest as he tried to restrain the panic growing beneath it.

"He's fine. Better than you at least." Raising his eyes to gaze at the ceiling before lowering it to Arthur again. "If you ignore the fact that your father has thrown him in the dungeons."

"What?" Arthur felt his strapped up ribcage twinge at the shout and holding a hand to his chest he bit down the groan that tried to force its way forth. "What in the name of sanity would he do that for?" Merlin hadn't done anything wrong!

"I think," he held out a finger in emphasis, "_think_ it may possibly be nothing more than a slight knee-jerk reaction."

"To what?" Peter remained silent and Arthur raised angry eyes to glare at him. The man's eyes were firmly settled upon the bed linen beside the Prince and the royal felt his anger spike. "What did you do?" Peter's dark eyes flitted up to meet his gaze before quickly moving away again. "Peter!"

"You were _dying_, Arthur." His harsh words cut across the Prince's cry, silencing him. "Literally wasting away and he _wasn't_ leaving your side."

Realisation slowly dawned on him and Arthur was surprised at the shock and lack of anger there was in his own voice. "You used magic on him."

He shrugged. "It was just a bit of…persuasion. Just to nudge him enough to get him out of the room."

"Are you insane?" Using sorcery on the King who had outlawed its very existance, never mind practice, was nothing short of suicidal, not to mention the thought that the King's mind had been so easily manipulated

"If it makes you feel any better, I tried the same thing on Merlin, but-"

He near jumped out of the bed, ignoring the flaring pain in his chest that throbbed in protest. "You WHAT?"

"-BUT it didn't seem to affect him." Peter stepped forward and forced Arthur to lean back down again. "That boy is every bit as stubborn as you are." he let out a slight laugh. "I swear, you two will be the death of each other if you're not careful."

Arthur held out a hand and pointed it accusingly at the man stood before him, his eyes flashing with anger. "Merlin's suffered more than enough at the hands of your magic already. How dare you!"

"I said it didn't work, didn't I? Besides I was cutting it close as it was. You were drawing your last breaths when I turned up." He raised his hands in a slight defense. "And if my influence had worked, he wouldn't be your father's prisoner now would he?"

The Prince's anger sank at the reminder, an image of Merlin huddled in a cell dragging his determination out. He hadn't done everything he had out in the seclusion in the forest only to lose the fool to his own father! Of course, there was only one thing for him to do.

"I'll speak with my father."

Peter nodded, a smug half-smile communicating his approval as he turned away towards the other end of the room. Stopping halfway through the motion, the sorcerer turned on his heel. "Go easy on him, Arthur. Merlin I mean. I don't think he's quite realised that everything's back to normal now, including himself."

Arthur's brow furrowed. "Why not?"

"His focus has been somewhat…" reaching out with a hand, he hald-heartedly indicated the bed upon which Arthur lay, "…otherwise occupied."

Leaning against his flat palm Arthur resisted the urge to groan. If Peter meant what he believed the man to mean, Merlin had been worrying over him. The Stupid. Selfless. Idiot.

His mental image of Merlin in the dungeons shifted. Now he was huddled in a corner, sat in a puddle that had amassed near the small barred window the allowed sunlight to filter into the dank, dismal, damp room. His eyes clouded with confusion and swamped in clothes that for some reason were too big for him.

It was at this point he realised that the Merlin he'd been imagining was the younger, smaller one he'd last seen out in the woods. Shaking his head he tried to force the image to shift into the ordinary manservant he knew; the way he remembered Merlin from the day they'd investigated that blasted house. All the motion did was make his head ache.

Glancing up, he carried another question about Merlin on his lips but the words were lost as he saw Peter had already gone, leaving the blond Prince to his own thoughts and company. And as helpful and wise as the damned sorcerer had been, Arthur hoped that this time would be their final meeting.

Bracing himself against the matress, the Prince pushed himself to his feet, bracing himself against the nearby cabinet while he waited for the room to stop moving. Rest, was probably what Gaius would prescribe were he there, plenty of refreshing, recuperating, rejuvenating rest to be had from the comfort of the royal bed he had just left, but Arthur cared little for the prospect. Gaius wasn't there and he had a manservant to rescue.

Again.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **good guess, Steffi ;)


	12. All At Once

**Disclaimer:** still not mine you know

**A/N: **So here it is, the final chapter. I've really enjoyed writing this and from what I could tell, with obvious exceptions *cough*anonreviewer*cough*, it's been really popular. I'm absolutely mortified to see it finish but I refuse to be held down and I've already got the first chapter of my next fic Upon Reflection, ready for posting. If you're interested please give it a look once I've got it up. Hope you're all enjoying the holidays and that you have a great new year. it's been great to share this with you guys ;)

**Chapter Twelve: All At Once**

Uther looked up from the table as the doors to the hall opened to reveal his son; visibly tired and struggling to walk, yet still managing to hold himself with the commanding nature that seemed to come naturally to all male members of the Pendragon family.

"Arthur!" Moving swiftly around the table he hurried over to catch the boy should he start to fall, silently celebrating in the fact that his son was awake. "Thank goodness."

A shaking, yet still strong arm raised to hold the King back while Arthur struggled to remain on his feet, still a bit addled by the sudden changes that seemed to have happened in his mind.

"What is it?"

Taking a deep breath the Prince drew himself up as straight as he was likely to get unaided and looked his father directly in the eyes. The air of authority his father had drilled into him was there, slightly beaten and broken which was understandable given his current condition but defiant and roaring like a lion in his chest all the same. "Why?"

"What are you-?"

"Why did you arrest Merlin?"

Uther's face fell, not quite morphing into anger as Arthur had expected. The King looked more confused than anything. "I had to, he stands accused of sorcery."

"On what basis is this accusation made?" It was with great difficulty that he kept the burning anger from his voice but he knew – he hoped – it wasn't his father's fault and anger would not help his case.

"Your recovery was nothing short of miraculous, Gaius said as much himself. The boy was alone with you." Uther's brow furrowed as the expected anger began to surface. "Clearly he used some form of sorcery to restore you."

"I fail to see how that act can be called a crime." Would he rather Arthur was still dying…probably dead by now actually…

"Magic is a plague upon our kingdom. It is our duty to protect our peop-"

"Merlin's my _servant_!" Arthur's shout cut sharply across his father and all those gathered behind him shied away, seeing something of the King in the cry. Even Uther was taken aback at the yell. "He doesn't have a single evil bone in his body. He has never shown anything but unbridled loyalty towards us and our kingdom."

Arthur's breathing was heavy from the anger that he'd given up trying to hold back. There was no feeling pity for his father when he was being this stupidly obstinate. Truly, magic was the _one_ thing that could blind him to even the simplest of truths.

One breath became a bit too deep and he felt his strapped-up ribs pull slightly and he couldn't hold nor hide the wince it caused and Uther took a step forward.

"You should sit, Arthur."

His arms reached out, seeking to steady the shaken boy but they were batted away as Arthur struggled to straighten up, one arm clasped to the side of his chest. Shaking his head, Arthur turned his still angry expression up to meet his father's gaze. "Not until you _listen _to me."

"Arthur!"

"Merlin didn't do anything!"

"And how can you be sure of that?" His concern was momentarily forgotten as his son continued to defy him. "Don't you realise he's been manipulating you, using your position and your power to blind you to his true nature!"

"Sorcerers crave power. _You_ taught me that. You honestly think Merlin would have put up with me-" he paused, trying to hide his slip with a cough. "Put up with being treated as a servant for so long if his intentions are truly as you say?"

As his father paused, Arthur knew he had hit on the right point to try and sway him. And maybe Arthur had a point. After all, the boy had been in his son's service for around a year now and of course he complained and moaned and messed up, more so than most servants, but he continued to turn up for work day after day and had never made any indication that he had any higher aims than that of his station.

"You think he would allow himself to be kidnapped...and tortured...by another...by another sorcerer." The lie came uneasily from his lips but Arthur knew, he _knew_, that the truth of what had occurred out in the forest would only serve to place himself onto the pyre with Merlin.

Sensing his son's unease, Uther's mask of indifference fell slightly. "Arthur?"

"I found him. The sorcerer. It took me a few days but I found him." Turning his head away slightly, Arthur's hand instinctively reached for his bandaged stomach as he spoke. "He was camped around half a day's ride from the outer edge of town. West, I think. Merlin was his prisoner, a hostage in case I decided to go after him after what happened during the investigation." He paused, taking a shuddery breath and trying not to dwell on how easily the lies were falling from his lips. "I refused to be intimidated by him and he attacked me." Trying to avoid looking too dramatic, he reached a hand to his head and tried to look pained. "I don't remember much after that."

When he looked back round, Arthur saw that he had convinced the silent consorts, still stood in their spots, all their eyes showing something akin to fear and determination or something. Arthur's focus wasn't exactly perfect right now. Still it wasn't them he needed to convince, and his father, whose gaze had at last left his son's face didn't look entirely sure.

"I don't know how I was saved, sire, but I swear to you, Merlin couldn't have had anything to do with it." Uther looked up as his son let out a light-hearted laugh. "He is the _least _magical person I have ever met"

And Arthur left it at that.

If there was anything he had come to learn when confronting his father it was the necessity to not over-press the point. If he continued his father would believe it to be more of a need to defy the King than to do what was right by whomever he fought for.

Minutes passed in silence, broken only by one of the scribes lightly coughing at one point and throughout the entire silence Arthur never turned from the King.

Uther saw the way, even when still half-wincing and quite clearly ill beyond the sense of standing unaided, Arthur managed to meet his gaze with an equal amount of fiery determination and refused to allow his current condition stand in the way of his point.

"Sir Leon!"

From the shadows towards the left, Leon, friend and loyal supporter to both father and son stepped forward. "Sire?"

"The charges are dropped." He was still watching Arthur who didn't make any form of response as his father spoke. "See to it the boy is released."

"Of course, sire." Bowing his head slightly, Leon began towards the doors, which were still open.

"Thank you, father." Arthur's mask fell slightly and he winced more than he had allowed himself to before but still managed to keep himself somewhat composed.

Uther merely watched his son before gently inclining his head. "You should be resting, Arthur."

Arthur's face was filled with respect and admiration as he bowed his head before turning to shakily make his way to the door. There was no chance he could even consider resting just yet. There was still something he needed to check.

He needed to check on Merlin. If he asked somebody, anybody, they'd tell him, but he would never truly believe them until he saw the idiot himself.

Once the great doors closed behind him, Arthur had been about to collapse as the adrenaline from facing his father drained away but Leon stepped, seemingly out of nowhere, to catch the Prince before he fell in a heap. Carefully, Leon lifted him so one of his arms were slung around the knight's shoulders and without even a word started off towards the dungeons pulling Arthur along with him.

"Thank you."

The words were quiet and he wouldn't have known that Leon had even heard him were it not for the friendly smile that grew as they continued, slightly stumbling and slow in their progress but going faster wasn't much of an option at the moment.

Arthur was more than lucky to have a friend such as Leon.

* * *

><p>It had happened.<p>

It had finally happened.

Merlin had been accused of sorcery. He'd been arrested and sat in the chilled dungeons awaiting a wholly unfair trial that would see him ending up on a pyre like so many others before him. Except it hadn't been him – for once.

And he wasn't entirely sure what was going on, everything had got a bit muddled somewhere and naturally it was all Arthur's fault. Stupid prat.

Uther had arrived with Gaius when Merlin called and the King had ordered the guards at the door to arrest Merlin for saving Arthur; _saving_ him damn it! Only, _had_ Arthur been saved?

The guards had dragged a shouting Merlin from the room and proceeded to dump him in this cell where he still sat, which in itself was curious considering he stood accused of sorcery. The last two…maybe three days he'd been sat there with nothing but his self-deprecating brain to slowly convince him that he had imagined Arthur's steady breathing and the real reason he was still in the dungeons was because he was being punished for raising false hopes in the court.

It was taking all his courage to convince himself that Arthur wasn't dead as surely word would have reached him, even down in the dungeons.

Closing his eyes, he allowed his head to fall back against the wall behind him.

His broken arm had been throbbing on and off since he'd been thrown in here due to the bandages becoming looser from his restless shifting at night. Sleeping had been difficult when his head was still so busy with worry and confusion and the burning pain in his arm. Gaius hadn't been allowed in to change the bandages that kept his bad arm strapped tightly to his side and the linen was getting dirty. Were it a wound Merlin would probably worry about possible infection but as it was the only thing to fear was his bone setting wrong.

Presuming he lived that long, of course.

"Merlin?"

His eyes snapped open at the familiar voice; it had come from nearby, yet still somewhat distant; somewhere in the dungeons. "Arthur?" he barely whispered, not wanting the guards to laugh at him if he was imagining it.

There was some mumbling nearby and a shout of "Sire!" and Merlin scrambled to his feet.

"Arthur?" Wiping at his tired eyes with his good hand, Merlin watched, awe-struck as the door to his cell was swung open and there stood a dishevelled, tired, still-far-too-pale Prince of Camelot leaning heavily against Leon who stood beside him as a support.

The Prince was smiling. "It's alright now, Merlin."

Arthur.

It was Arthur.

Alive.

Just about.

But alive.

And Arthur.

Most definitely Arthur.

"You're-" Merlin stuttered.

Arthur was okay.

And so was Merlin.

More or less.

And that was the moment it all sort of snuck up on the servant. Everything that to this point had been glaringly obvious but he'd ignored for whatever stupid reason; to keep his mind from short-circuiting or panicking or exploding most likely.

The smile Arthur wore quickly fell as he saw Merlin's eyes begin to roll into the back of his head and rushed forward ignoring the twinge in his ribs and the indignant cry from Leon. He didn't get there in time and Merlin fell, his head cracking against the wall, which he hadn't moved far enough from, before sliding down it. Arthur knelt at his servant's side, grunting at the discomfort it caused and immediately pulled Merlin's head off the floor before yelling at Leon to run for Gaius already and hurry up!

"Merlin! Merlin are you alright!" he began tapping at the boy's face but stopped when he noticed the tears that were slowly and silently trickling from Merlin's clenched eyes.

He wasn't unconscious; he _had_ been but the contact with the wall had been enough to bring him out of it rather painfully but that wasn't the reason for the tears and Arthur knew it as he helped Merlin up into a sitting position.

Seeing Arthur, perfectly alright – well maybe not perfectly – had taken away the main focus of his attention since he'd become all grown up again. And now, with nothing to distract him from how everything wasn't falling apart, the surprisingly normalcy of the situation had overwhelmed him. It still did now as he leant forward, gasping breaths between half-silent sobs.

Then there was the throbbing at the base of his skull from where he'd hit the wall and the horror-stricken realisation that Arthur was fine but he was still going to be killed by the King. Wasn't he? Even so, he was in a small dank room and his arm hurt and truthfully he was struggling to find a reason to stop the tears that were flowing a good deal more freely now as he scrunched his face up to try and stem them.

"Calm down, Merlin." Arthur's voice was reassuring and soothing but did little to slow down the tirade that was leaving his eyes. "It's going to be alright. Just try and breathe." Swallowing, Merlin took a half-breath before coughing and he felt a strong hand on the centre of his back. It patted him gently until his throat stopped feeling as though it was trying to kill him and the hacking ceased.

He took another few deep breaths, each sounding like he was on the edge of tears even though he was long past that point and Arthur laughed slightly.

"That's right, breathe. It's alright. Everything's fine.

"Everything's fine, Merlin."

* * *

><p>Not ten minutes ago, Sir Leon had arrived in Gaius' chambers with urgent orders to attend to the dungeons and knowing full well what Uther had ordered for Merlin he had followed the knight as quickly as he could. Leon stopped outside the entrance, turning as he held an arm to indicate inside the cell and although initially obscured by the moving bars as he passed, Gaius' view was clear as he stepped just inside the doorway.<p>

Gaius was still clueless as to what had occurred out in the woods. Merlin appeared to have little recollection but considering the distraction caused by Arthur's indisposed nature, the boy had been wholly unresponsive, holding a continuous vigil in the Prince's chambers. Once, the physician had walked in to find his ward curled in the corner having fallen asleep against the wall and slipped down to the unforgiving stone floor.

Whatever it was that had happened out there, it was obvious that it would be enough to leave both of the young men changed, although he couldn't say for sure whether it would end up being for the better or not. That was, at least, until his aged eyes took in the scene of the boys in Merlin's cell.

Both of them were towards the back of the room. Merlin was sat with his legs spread out before him his left arm still loosely bound to his side while his right was raised, his hand cradling the back of his head. The boy's face was lowered so no one would see the quiet sobs that were amplified in the otherwise silent cell. Arthur was knelt on the floor beside him, his left arm around Merlin's back, holding him forward and away from the wall behind him, while the fingers on his right hand were placed firmly on the boy's chest to hold him back from curling in on himself.

Merlin was almost leaning into the Prince's chest, seemingly comforted by the half-embrace while quiet reassurances were falling from Arthur's lips as he tried to soothe the young man in his arms.

Gaius watched in silence, not wishing to disturb the scene before him. The boys were known throughout the castle for their constant bickering, joyful banter and unyielding loyalty towards each other, yet there was something new within this outright display of friendship between the two of them.

There was no denying that whatever it was that had happened out there had only served to bring the boys closer together.

* * *

><p>Merlin mumbled something about not having been crying but it was lost in the pillow he'd buried his face into and Arthur smiled to see his manservant back in his own room, where he belonged.<p>

He pulled the small wooden door closed as he left and hobbled down the small stairway that led back down into Gaius' chamber to be greeted by the beaming physician. Leaning against the archway he hoped the old man wouldn't notice how close to collapse he probably appeared.

"What?"

Gaius stepped forward offering an arm to the Prince who took it gratefully and slowly made his way across the room towards the door behind which Leon was waiting to return him to his chambers.

"You're very good to him, Arthur."

The blond seemed about to protest, his mouth opened to argue the point but snapped shut again with a sigh and a slight shake of his head, Arthur realised that any argument he might have would only end up being glared out of him by the physician.

"Someone needs to look after him."

Gaius couldn't help but agree. No one really ever noticed Merlin, since all servants were supposed to be invisible. Only ever noticed when they weren't there doing what they were supposed to and easily replaced should they fail to make the grade. Barely anyone other than the two men who were steadily making their way to the door even gave the boy a second thought. Then there was the foolish boy himself. The great many things that boy had given up, all that he had risked to help other people and never once thinking to spare a thought for himself. It was bound to become his undoing some day.

"Merlin has the rest of the week off." With a self-satisfied smile that wasn't arrogant or smug but rather carried a gentle contentment that Prince didn't think he had truly felt in years, Arthur stepped towards the door, carefully opening and trying not to topple himself over. "Beyond that he is not to enter my chambers until you deem him fit to return to service."

Still smiling, Gaius folded his hands and bowed his head in acknowledgement. "Sire."

The Prince was about to step through the door when Gaius spoke again.

"If I might ask, sire." As the young man turned, his smile had slipped and he seemed slightly guarded. "What happened out there?"

It was in that moment as all the memories, the thoughts, the fears, the pains that Arthur had seen passed before his eyes that the Prince that he would never tell anyone, not even Merlin what had happened. It was beyond their comprehension. To some extent it was beyond even his own comprehension, but he couldn't dare to hope they would understand.

"Make sure he rests, Gaius." The smile that had all but fallen away, grew back once again as he absent-mindedly patted the side of the door. "I'll be back this evening to check on him."

Then before Gaius could pull forth any more questions, he placed a hand on the shoulder of the waiting knight who immediately reached to support him back to his own chambers.

They could never know.


End file.
